


Does Pizza Have Healing Properties?

by Kali588



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Daughter, Deaf Clint Barton, Human Disaster Clint Barton, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Work In Progress, angry soviet cinnamon roll
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 57,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5759095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kali588/pseuds/Kali588
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an incident with The Avengers while on a mission, Clint loses his memory of SHIELD, the Avengers, and a certain red headed assassin. He opens a pizza parlor with Kate Bishop. But will he be cured before Hawkeye's enemies can find him without his usual defenses?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first chapter fic! I can't make any promises about when I will update, just that I will update as I can. Characters/relationships/tags will be updated as relevant. You can find me on Tumblr at itsnotokbutwereallright - hope you enjoy!

Clint slung his arm around Kate’s shoulders. “Doesn’t it look awesome, Katie-Kate?” He looked proudly at the hand lettered sign that read “Hawkeye’s Pizza,” duct taped to the metal grated security door. Kate looked at him and lifted her dark brows. She was less impressed by the half boarded windows, anatomically incorrect graffiti over a large portion of the red brick, and the rusted out fence that Clint had declared as the “patio area.”

 

“Needs some work, Hawkguy.” She wrapped her arm around his waist anyway. “It’ll be great.” _Remember, support support support._ “Let’s go see the inside, and what I’m sure is not at all filled with toxic black mold and asbestos.”

 

He grinned at her and pulled the keys out of his hoodie pocket. “Lucky checked it out, he seemed fine.”

 

“I don’t know if he’s certified in New York State, Barton. Seriously, did you have this all checked before you signed the papers?”

 

“Relax, Bishop. Don’t judge a book by its cover. That outside stuff is an easy fix anyway.” He jiggled a key in the lock. Then tried two more before he got the door open, with a little help from his shoulder. He flipped the light switch with his right hand. “Gotta love it!”

 

She walked in, and she was more surprised at herself for not believing in what seemed another of his uncanny abilities - he was able to find what seemed like a shithole and it would have easily cost three times as much in another neighborhood. She whistled. “Pretty good, Barton.” There were hardwood floors, stained a gorgeous cherry, and the walls were exposed brick. There was a long bar on the left hand side, towards the middle of the wall, that was a few shades lighter than the floor. She could see double swing doors in the right back, which she assumed led to the kitchen. There was still a sign on the opposite side of those, hanging from the ceiling, that said “Restrooms.” There weren’t any tables or chairs, yet, but he had told her those were set up to be delivered within the next day or so.

 

As they walked to the back, she could see their reflections in the mirror behind the bar. Clint was a taller guy, touching in at 6’3” according to the license she had definitely not stolen out of his wallet one day to see if she could. The sandy hair was always shaggy from needing a cut, but not long enough to cover that he wore purple hearing aids in both ears. He was tan, and though his arms weren’t quite as muscular from the constant archery, they weren’t embarrassing either. His blue eyes frequently changed color depending on his mood - well, they used to. Kate, on the other hand, was of average height and slender (though her arms, she was proud to say, rivaled Clint’s). She preferred her black hair long, and frequently wore her sunglasses pushed back as a headband. Her blue eyes were currently studying the soon to be restaurant, and evaluating the weakest points. She noted that the ceiling had exposed beams, which could be useful for multiple purposes, and approved.

 

They walked into the kitchen, which still had stainless steel appliances and shelving, albeit covered with a thin layer of dust. There was a pizza oven already built into the wall. She could see the door to the walk in and heard the vague humming that (thankfully) meant refrigeration was occurring. It seemed like the place was actually pretty solid.

 

Clint gestured vaguely to the back. “Office space is upstairs, door is back there. There’s a door to the alley to take out trash and whatever. Nice loft upstairs, I’ll probably move in some furniture and call it a day.”

 

“You know you can stay with me as long as you want.”

 

“I know, Katie-Kate. But this makes more sense - late closing, early-ish wake ups to start prep.”

 

She bit her lip and nodded, willed the tears to not come to her eyes. After that day, he hadn’t been able to stay at his Bed-Stuy apartment. His tenants all knew him as an Avenger. He had gotten upset when they asked, not knowing. He and Lucky had moved in with her - he obviously couldn’t go to Natasha’s, or the random townhouse they kept as a safehouse, and definitely not the Tower. By the second week, she could tell the agitation had faded, but she was still discovering new ways he was affected. They all hoped this would be good for him. And it gave them a good excuse to reconnect. After all, who doesn’t love pizza? “Why don’t you grab us something to eat, since kitchen isn’t stocked yet. I’ll wait here for the security guy.”

 

“Kaaaate,” he whined. “I _told_ you, I don’t need a security system. I’ll forget to set it half the time, or forget to turn it off when I go to take Lucky out.”

 

“My guy is good. He’ll accommodate all of that.” He pouted a little, though he’d never admit it. “Consider it my congratulations gift.” She started pushing him out of the kitchen and through the restaurant.

 

“I thought you working for me was my gift.”

 

“Uh, no. You’re paying me as an employee. But this? I will take care of this. It’ll make me feel better.”

 

He sighed heavily. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to have to worry about you after closing time.” He saw the checked eye roll. “Okay, yeah, I know that sounds silly. But not a lot of people know about your second job, and something like that is secret. So we’ll have the security system and you can sleep easy knowing poor Clint won’t be able to figure it out.” He handed her the keys and walked out the front door.

 

She sighed and flipped her sunglasses down, pressing the button on her phone that Tony had programmed to connect to a specialized app. She held the phone up to her ear. “Hey, Hawkeye. How’s Hawkeye?”

 

“Still just Clint. But he seems happier. He’s planning on moving out of my place and moving in here.” She moved to the middle of the room.

 

“Oh. Well. Let’s make sure he’s in tip top shape, shall we?” She grunted her agreement and turned in a slow 360. “Little slower...got it. Bathrooms next.” She performed the same action in each bathroom, pleasantly surprised to not see any sort of animal or insect and that her sense of smell wasn’t assaulted.

 

“Kitchen.” Tony confirmed when the scan was complete. She did show him the walk in and received a sarcastic comment for her trouble. “Exit here.” She opened the door and scanned the narrow alley. Tony would confirm the cross streets and find out which tenants had access later. She went back inside and found the access door to the office Clint had mentioned. “Locked. Hold please.” She took the keychain he’d given her and shoved it in the lock. Counting to five, she then twisted and was pleased when the door opened easily. She walked upstairs and sighed. “Well, I guess he has a style.”

 

The loft apartment was so similar to his Bed-Stuy place that it hurt a little. He clearly had strong preferences, and while she was glad to see that he hadn’t changed overmuch at his core, it was still a reminder of where he should be. There was a raggedy kitchen, a set of stairs leading to what she assumed was the bedroom, and the bathroom underneath. The living area had floor to ceiling windows. The fire escape door was in the same location, and she obediently took Tony up to the roof.

 

“Thanks, Kate. I’ll get this all set up with the best. I’ll send one of the subsidiary trucks so he doesn’t think something is off.”

 

“Thanks, Tony. It helps knowing you guys are watching out for him, too.”

 

“Of course we are. I don’t want to be a fly to the spider.”

  
She laughed, because she was meant to, and hung up. She headed downstairs and waited for Clint to come back - something she had been doing for months.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes more details about what happened to Clint, the introduction of Darcy Lewis, and Hawkeye's is almost ready to open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a setup chapter, to be honest, but hopefully you all enjoy!

Clint had come back with Korean barbecue and a six pack of beer - which took a lot of wheedling for him to share since “I can’t give alcohol to twelve year olds!” but, she supposed in acknowledgement of the celebratory nature, not as much as usual. 

 

Over the next couple of weeks, she oversaw the installation of the best security system Tony could dream up (complete with its own link to Jarvis, the Tower AI), the delivery of furniture, and the clean up of the exterior. Clint was working with suppliers and the bank to make sure everything was smooth sailing for their planned opening in two days. They were currently arguing about staff.

 

“Who is going to go through a background check to work at a pizza joint, Kate!? It’s crazy. Couple of college kids and us and we’ll be good to go.”

 

“No! God, do you know how easy it is to pretend to be in college? Especially for your pea brain! Put ‘em in a hoodie and flip flops and through a backpack and you think they go to Columbia!”

 

“Who would want to pretend to be in college just so they could work here!? You’re being paranoid. Security system, background check...are you going to want a DNA sample, too?”

 

She decided not to mention that DNA would be part of the background check. “It’s not paranoia. You never know what they could see because of my...other place of employment. Or what people like Hydra could find out, and then use you to get to me! To us!”

 

He scoffed. “Please. The Avengers aren’t going to care about Clint Barton.” Kate mentally acknowledged the blow but was careful to keep a straight face. “And you don’t need to be bringing your secret clubhouse here. You have a perfectly good ivory tower for your meetings. They won’t see anything someone else wouldn’t get on their phone and posted to YouTube.”

 

She pulled out the last tool in her arsenal. He couldn’t resist the doe eyes. It was what kept getting him in trouble with women. Well, that, and his preference for redheads. But since she only had the eyes to work with, she turned them on. “I know you think it’s silly, Clint. But it would really make me feel better if you would just let me screen the people applying. It won’t cost you anything-”

 

“That’s not the  _ point _ .” She resisted the urge to smack him. And turned the eyes up another notch. “I know what you’re doing, Kate Bishop.” She continued to stare at him like he had kicked a drowning puppy. “Oh my God. Fine. Fine! You can screen them. But I mean it, Kate, no DNA. And keep it on the down low, okay?”

 

She smiled at him. “Of course! Discrete. Casual. Super casual.”

 

“Stop saying casual.”

 

She took the stack of applications that he offered and grabbed her bag from the floor. “I’ll have some people picked out by lunch!” She ignored his grumbling and left, heading for the Tower. 

 

Once she arrived, she scanned into the elevator and waited for Jarvis to confirm her bio signature. “Common floor, Jarvis.”

 

“Right away, Ms. Bishop.” The elevator glided smoothly to the requested floor. “Would you like me to request any particular Avenger to join you?”

 

“I don’t need an Avenger. I need Darcy Lewis, please.”

 

“I will notify Ms. Lewis.” Kate walked to one of the couches and put her bag on the floor, while putting her feet on the coffee table. “Ms. Lewis will be down as soon as she has finished the removal of all caffeine from the lab. She is almost finished.”

 

“Thanks, Jarvis.” Kate grabbed the applications out of her bag, along with a pen that had been buried, and settled back into the couch. She quickly perused through and weeded out the ones she deemed automatically unemployable by virtue of spelling mistakes, no availability, or the ones with a lengthy job history in a short period of time. This took care of about half of the original 50 she had been given. She was starting her second round, doing a more in depth reading of the remaining applicants, when a dark haired lab assistant, all 5 feet 4 inches radiating annoyance, stomped in.

 

“Sorry, Kate. I was out the lab door when I turn and see Tony pulling a bag of chocolate covered espresso beans out of the ceiling. I had to chase him down to get them.”

 

Kate shrugged. “Can’t say I’m surprised. What’s with the caffeine purge?”

 

“Pepper finally gets home tonight, so I have to get rid of the stuff now to get the majority out of his system before then. Maybe he’ll finally sleep.”

 

“Hope so. Clint used to get a little antsy on Natasha’s longer missions. Had to drag him out of the gym more than once.”

 

“How is my favorite bird brain?”

 

“Still a bird brain. But no change.” Darcy looked downcast at that, but she had kind of figured. Bruce was working to try and find a chemical compound to counteract what had been done, but the simulations were all coming back with negative results or very bad side effects. It had not lead to a good mood in the lab.

 

“So,” she gestured to the papers, “what’s this all about? I don’t really have an interest in  _ more _ paperwork…”

 

“Well, I could use your help. You know Clint is starting up a pizza place, and I’m his partner and whatever. He needs to hire real staff, but there are only like five of these people I think are going to pass a background check. I was kind of hoping you’d come work for us? I need someone to keep an eye on him - on things - when I can’t be there.”

 

Darcy arched a dark brow, and then gave a wicked smile. “Oh absolutely. I’d love to work for Clint Barton.”

 

They filled out Darcy’s application, and ran surface checks for the remaining candidates. Kate ended up with 8, including Darcy. She decided that was a good place to start. She gave Darcy the address, and told her to come by the next day for training. Kate took another cab back to the pizza place, calling the remaining now-employees to give them the details for training, and headed to where Clint and Lucky were in the kitchen. Clint was talking to the one eyed lab mix, and explaining to him the various toppings they were going to offer.

 

“We’ve got our basic pepperoni, sausage, peppers, onions, pineapple, tomato, bacon, etcetera. But I’ve got some specialties planned, Luck. And that’s what we’re testing today. This is a barbecue pizza - barbecue sauce, pulled pork or chicken, and onions.” When Kate walked in, the dog had his head cocked to one side. “I know, but that’s why we’re tasting it now.” He set a piece on the floor and then took a big bite out of his own. “Not bad...kind of mushy. Maybe after it comes out of oven, throw some fresh coleslaw on it?” Lucky had refused to take a bite.

 

“I think he just likes the classics, Barton.”

 

“Well, I can understand that. But it’s New York. I gotta try something new.” He pulled another pizza out of the oven. “So, this one has a maple syrup base, with bacon, sausage, and topped with a fried egg.” Lucky had perked up at the word bacon. He devoured the slice and licked his muzzle. Kate nabbed a slice as well.

 

“I think we can all agree on that one,” she said through a mouthful.

 

They tried various combinations until Kate got a Assemble call around five. She dashed into the woman’s bathroom and changed into her uniform. “Lockers,” she told Clint. “We’re going to need lockers for the employees. By the way, I told them all to be here tomorrow at 10 AM for training!” She had already left when Clint realized what she said. 

 

“Shit.”

 

The next morning dawned, and Clint groaned. He had been plagued by nightmares for weeks. The imagery was gone as soon as he woke up, so he didn’t even know why he felt so panicked. The thought came to him to go to the roof, but he pushed it out of his mind. He needed a shower and coffee. He checked the time on his phone and grunted. He still had time before Kate’s employees showed. He stumbled to the bathroom in his bullseye boxers and prayed to any god that would listen that he’d actually like these people.

 

Almost a pot of coffee later (he hadn’t gotten around to unpacking any of his dishes) and he was ready to go downstairs. He grabbed jeans, a reasonably clean shirt judging by smell, and his hearing aids. He whistled for Lucky and headed downstairs, putting the aids in as he walked and turning them on. Kate was already there, speaking with a dark haired girl that looked vaguely familiar. They all looked at each other and then Clint offered a hand. “Hi, I’m Clint. I’m the owner.”

 

The dark haired girl bit her lip, glanced at Kate, and then shook his hand with her own. “I’m Darcy.” 

 

“Nice to meet you. We’re going to figure out a place to stash your stuff before the opening tomorrow, but for now just grab a seat and we’ll wait for the rest to show up. I’ll be right back.”

 

Clint ducked back into the kitchen and Darcy turned to Kate. “I thought for sure he recognized me. Jane tried to explain to me what happened, but it came second hand from Thor, so between the Thor speak and Science speak, I don’t really understand.”

 

Kate sighed. “No one is really sure. They were fighting AIM and Clint was in his sniper spot. Steve said he didn’t even yell for help. They found him just laying on the roof, out cold. He woke up in the med bay and started freaking out. Natasha had to hold him down while they sedated him and ran some tests. Everything checked out, but anytime he woke up he’d yell about the circus, or ask about his brother, or he’d try to escape. They called me in after a couple of days. I’m the only person he recognized. Called me Katie-Kate and asked me to get him out of there. So I did. 

 

I took him back to his apartment. He remembered Lucky, but not how he got him. He remembers me, but not how we met. When I told him that he was an Avenger, he got angry and told me that it wasn’t funny to say that, knowing his past and how hard he worked to get away from it. It was like anything from the time he went to SHIELD was erased. He knows that he stopped being a bad guy, but that he just became...normal.”

 

Darcy raised her eyebrows. “What’d the team say?”

 

Kate threw her hands up in the air for a second. “They asked me to take his spot and to keep an eye on him.”

 

“I know  _ that _ , Kate. What did they  _ say _ ?”

 

“Tony and Bruce, as you are aware, have been working to try and figure it out pretty much non stop. They didn’t say much, at least not to me. Steve said he would personally track down every AIM scientist he could until they would tell him how to fix it. Thor...well, he was Thor. His brother hawk is a brave and true warrior, and he would not rest until he had tried whatever magic he had available to him, in all the nine realms. And Natasha…” Kate hesitated. “Natasha didn’t say anything. She just left.”

 

Darcy whistled. “Damn, girl.”

 

“Yeah.” Kate shrugged. “I don’t know what her master plan is, or if she’s even developing one. I haven’t heard a peep from her.” She laid her head on the table with a soft  _ thunk. _

 

Darcy patted her gently. “They’ll figure it out. Until then, how’s the pizza?”

 

Kate growled and then sat up straight again. “It’s actually really good.”

 

“He’ll do fine. And we’ll keep an eye on him and he’ll get fixed up and we’ll hopefully get free pizza. Win win.”

 

Kate echoed, “Win win,” but her heart wasn’t in it. Thankfully, she was saved from Darcy calling her out by the bell jingling over the door. A group of four walked in, and she walked over to make introductions. Shortly after, the remaining three entered. She got them settled and went to tell Clint they were all here. 

 

When she walked in the back, he was staring at a scar on his upper arm and frowning. He and Natasha had laughed, telling the story. They had watched the movie “Wanted” and, being a little drunk, had gotten into a debate about curving bullets. Since Clint was staunchly against, Natasha had decided to see if it could be done and whipped out her gun. She ended up grazing him, and all he would say is “God dammit, Tasha, I told you!” 

 

“You okay, Clint? The team - new employees are here.”

 

“I don’t remember how I got this, Kate.” He looked at her, a worry line between his brows. “Why can’t I remember?” 

 

Kate didn’t have an immediate response, so she walked over to the pizza oven and slid out the couple of pizzas he had made for the training. She placed them on top of the pizza trays he had set out on the closest metal table. Putting the peel on the hook in the wall she grabbed it from, she grabbed a pizza cutter and made quick slices. Careful to brush away the tear that had fallen, she turned to look at him and met his eyes, hugging herself. “Sometimes, life forms you into a certain kind of person. And then something comes along, and starts to change the mould. And just when you adjust to this new form, someone comes into your life and makes it even better. But you’ve already changed once, and another change can leave marks.” She turned and grabbed one of the pizzas, nodding at him to pick up the other. He came and stood next to her.

 

“How do you forget someone that changes you at such a fundamental level?”

 

She looked at him as she put the pizza at shoulder level. “That’s the question that a lot of people want an answer to, Clint Barton. Hopefully, you’ll be the one to figure it out.” She smiled, a little sadly, and turned to the dining room. He frowned again, feeling a sense of loss that he couldn’t explain, and followed her. It was something he would be contemplating tonight. For now, like so many times before, there was work. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The restaurant is open, and Clint and Natasha meet!

After meeting the staff (which, dammit, Kate had seemed to pick very well) and giving them the basic training course and free pizza, he had let them go. They were to be there at 10 the next morning to prep for the lunch opening. Luis, one of the new servers, knew a guy that knew a guy that could get them lockers to stash in the upstairs office, so he and Kate went and did that. Since Luis was the referral, and they had just given him a new job, the guy even brought them over and helped Clint muscle them upstairs. Kate gave him an extra twenty bucks and a promise for a free pizza on his first visit. After he left, Clint and Kate went across the hall and flopped on Clint’s couch. Kate’s cell phone immediately went off and she swiped to answer.

“Hey, America, what’s up?” She listened for a minute and then rolled her head on neck. “I don’t know, we’ve got the opening tomorrow…yeah...yeah...GOD let it GO already, you ended up with her at the end of the night anyway!” She groaned, sounding a little like the nine year old Clint called her. “Yes, fine. Meet me at my place, I need to shower and change. Wait, actually, can you do the thing? Pleeeease? Awesome! I’ll text you the address, there’s an alley.” She pressed the button to hang up and sent the text. Clint hadn’t opened his eyes.

“I’m guessing that was not a call to save the world?”

Kate stood and said, “No. America insists that I owe her a favor because I spilled a drink on this girl that she had been talking to online, like, the instant I met her. So we’re going out. I’ll see you tomorrow!” She was out the door before he could ask her what “the thing” was. Lucky laid his head on Clint’s knee, and Clint sighed.

“Yeah, I know, bud. I’ll change and we’ll go for a run.” He went upstairs and found a pair of running shorts, dropping his jeans on the floor and yanking the shorts on. He headed downstairs and clipped Lucky to the leash. There was a little pouch on the leash that held his key after he locked up, and then cursed and unlocked to go in and set the stupid alarm. He locked back up, and he and Lucky headed off.

A female jogger, wearing a ball cap, approached from the other direction. She stopped to stretch, using the (no longer rusted) patio fence as support. She used the movements to disguise taking a set of lock picks out of her shoe. She confirmed no one had approached, and then moved to the front door. The lock took her no effort, and she quickly slipped inside, relocking the door behind her. A voice asked, “Passcode?” in a English accent.

“Passcode : Arrow,” she responded.

“Passcode accepted. Please provide identification.” She narrowed her eyes and cursed in Russian. “Identification accepted. Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark?” 

“No.”

“Please state the passcode upon your exit, Agent Romanoff, and I will arm the system.”

She sighed. “Thank you, Jarvis.” She didn’t turn on the lights. Her night vision was exceptional, and she had already briefly glanced at the security scans. She simply wanted to double check them. It had nothing to do with being anxious. The Black Widow was not anxious. She moved quickly and quietly through the lower levels, noting the windows and confirming the entry and exit points. She hesitated at the stairs but, checking her watch, decided she had enough time. She noted the office. The door across the hall must be his loft.

Steadying herself, she walked in. Even with seeing the scans, it hadn’t prepared her for how similar it seemed to their - _his_ \- apartment. The furniture placement, the mostly empty coffee pot on the counter, discarded take out cartons. The only difference was the lack of weaponry scattered around. Though he did still have a bow mounted on the wall. She went upstairs and noted the twisted sheets on the bed. He was having nightmares, just like she was. They always had slept better together. She turned and something shined in the corner of her eye, on the windowsill. She went over to it and reached out a hand, stopping herself before picking it up. She had given the small, crystal carved bird to him after they had been given separate missions - she in LA, he in New Mexico - and he had always moved it with him. To see it here, even knowing he didn’t remember her, made her feel a little better. Her Hawk was in there. She just had to find him and bring him home. 

Determined now, she left the loft and went back downstairs. She exited through the alley, since she knew she was cutting it close. Before she closed the door, she said to Jarvis, “Tony is never to know I was here. Understood?”

“Of course, Agent Romanoff.”

“Thank you. Passcode : Arrow.” She heard the small beep of the system turning on, and closed the door. She turned and exited the alley toward the opposite cross street of the entrance, once again setting out like a jogger on her evening run. 

Clint, shortly after, came up the front steps. He unlocked the front door and disarmed the beeping panel. Lucky trailed in after him, tongue out and leash trailing. He sniffed and whined a little. “It’s okay, boy.” He sniffed again and darted to the back. His tail wagged as they neared the upstairs. When they got to the loft door, he scratched for Clint to open it. He barked once, and then whined again. “What’s wrong, Luck?” Lucky went to lay his head on the couch, his eyes looking sad and lost.

Clint looked at him, a little confused. They’d been here a decent amount of time, he would have thought Lucky would be used to the place by now. He wasn’t sure what upset him, but it upset Clint a little too. He went to his freezer and pulled out a Hot Pocket. After heating it, he offered some to Lucky, but the dog seemed disinterested. When he took a bite, he could see why - still frozen. “Aw, dinner.” He sighed and heated it up a little big longer. Lucky took a piece, but when Clint sat down, he immediately curled up next to him on the couch. They sat and watched TV for a while, until Clint decided he needed to try and get some sleep before the big opening tomorrow.

He stripped as he walked up the stairs. He plugged in his phone on the nightstand, and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He got distracted when he reached a hand out to grab the toothpaste. His hands had always been rough, thanks to his time in the circus, and he had kept up with archery as a hobby. There was a scar, dead center of his left palm that he got...well, he didn’t remember when he got it. It looked like a knife scar. That shouldn’t be a story he forgot, but there was just a blank space. Just like when he had seen the one on his arm. He shook his head angrily and brushed his teeth quickly, refusing to look at himself.

As he was getting into bed, he thought back to his and Kate’s conversation earlier that day. He fell asleep frowning, wondering if there were other gaps in his memory that he hadn’t come across yet.

When he woke the next morning, it was with a longing he felt down to his core. He barely remembered flashes of red in his dreams - sometimes with laughter, sometimes with yelling, but he’d still felt...well, he guessed he didn’t know what he felt. Happy didn’t seem to describe it fully. Waking up in a bed by himself at (a loud groan when looking at his phone clock) an ungodly hour of the morning was just depressing. He tried to go back to sleep, but after thirty minutes of staring at his ceiling, punched his pillow in frustration and went to get ready.

A shower, coffee, taking Lucky out for a quick walk, and more coffee later, Clint was prepping when Kate walked in the kitchen door with one of the new girls - Daria? He was getting the various produce out of the walk in to chop. He had set tomatoes in a pot on the stove, to start the sauce for the dinner crowd since the lunch sauce had already been made.

Darlene? set a coffee cup on the workstation. “Strongest coffee they had, with one sugar.” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her. Kate rolled hers, and took a drink from the cup. She made a show of swallowing before handing the cup to him.

“Not poisonous, Barton. Darcy has many special talents, and coffee is one of them.” Darcy winked saucily at him and he blushed a little.

He took a sip and almost moaned.  “Marry me.”

She laughed. “Nice try, but I need to see what’s in this for me. So you, Barton, have some hoops to jump through.” She blew him a kiss and walked to the front to check everything there. She made sure to put a little extra sway in her hips.

After she left, Clint laughed while Kate smacked him on the arms as punctuation. “Do. Not. Flirt. With. Employees.” Secretly, she was thrilled. Clint and Darcy had always been innocently flirtatious, and this was an excellent sign in her opinion that he would go back to the way he was.  

“Relax, Katie-Kate. She’s barely out of college, I bet.” He showed her a faux innocent look that she was all too familiar with.

Kate glared at him darkly. “Just finish up in here, please.” He saluted in acknowledgement. “Smartass.”

He grinned cheekily at her. “Always.” She snorted and went out front. He completed the prep on the produce, drinking his coffee while he did so, and started working on the pizza dough. He measured ingredients into the industrial mixer and turned it on. It was a little loud, so he took his aids out and shoved them in a pocket. With the noise muffled, he checked on his sauce and added some spices, stirring afterwards. He took the dough out of the mixer and divided it up into large bowls, brushing them with oil before covering them and setting them aside.

He checked the time - ten o’clock, perfect. He and Kate had decided opening would be at 11. All of the employees should be there by now. He put his hearing aids back in and went out front. Sure enough, Kate was directing them on various tasks, but everything seemed mostly ready. “Hey guys, can everyone listen up for a minute?” They stopped what they were doing and focused on him. Clint cleared his throat at the 9 sets of eyes staring at him. “I just wanted to say, I’m sure you guys will all do great today. I’m more nervous about me than about you.” A couple of polite chuckles. “I’m serious. You are all taking a risk with me, and I am going to do my damndest not to let you down. This is a brand new team, and I’m sure there are gonna be some kinks to work out, but that’s okay. I’m here, whether it’s personally or professionally. I want you all to know that I will support you.” He blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his head with his hand. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get all deep or whatever. Basically, if you have a problem out here today or anyday, don’t hesitate to ask me. Kate will be here when she can, and at some point I may ask one of you to step up as a shift manager or something, but don’t let a customer walk all over you. There’s a difference between customer service and getting treated like shit. And if it’s the latter, just come get me.” That earned him a whistle from Luis and a couple of whoos from a waitress (Tina) and the bartender/hostess (Lola).  “Okay, go team!” They all laughed and went to finish up their duties. 

Darcy walked to the bar and plugged in an iPod to the dock. She said, in a loud voice, “NO ONE is to touch my iPod, people!” For some reason, she shot Clint a look that said this statement was directed at him and he held his hands up in surrender. She nodded, satisfied, and went back to rolling silverware.

He walked around and did a spot check of whatever he could think of, and was nervously pushing chairs in and out when Kate stopped him a little before 11. “Ready, Hawkeye?” 

“Ready, Hawkeye.” She felt her throat tighten at the familiar exchange, and pushed him to to the front door. He unlocked it with a little flourish, and flipped the sign to say “OPEN.” The staff clapped for him and he blushed. He headed to the kitchen - with his stomach in knots, he didn’t know what would happen when they eventually got their first customer.

Once alone in the kitchen, he leaned back against the wall and just took a minute to absorb the reality that his restaurant was officially open for business. God, he hoped it wouldn’t fail. He needed this to work. He didn’t want to be the Clint Barton that let everyone down. He pretended he was at the range and needed to line up a shot. Deep breath, check your posture (he straightened), and he let his mind go to the blank space that was normally accompanied by the twang of a bowstring being released. Nodding once to himself, he went to check on his dough.

Seeing that it was risen, he uncovered it and punched it down a little. Even the small action calmed him down further. Hope, a waitress with a no-nonsense attitude, came in and put an order down on the first station. “First order in!”

He nodded his thanks and came to pick it up. Large cheese, nice and easy. He went back to the table and floured the top. Flipping his first bowl of dough onto the area, he covered it again with plastic wrap after cutting out the portion that he needed. He rolled it out a little with his hands and then tossed it to the right size. Putting the crust on the baking tray, he covered it with sauce and the cheese, then carried it to the oven and slid it in.

He received another couple orders while waiting for the first to finish, and he was feeling like he was in the groove. He slid the first out and onto the waiting serving tray on the metal table by the oven, slicing it efficiently and carried it out to his first customers. A brown haired white woman, a bald black man, and what he assumed was their baby smiled when he arrived. “Here you go, folks. You’re our first official customer, hope you enjoy.” The man and woman thanked him, and he headed back to the kitchen.

Orders were coming in at a fairly steady rate - not so busy he felt overwhelmed, and the timing worked out to where he didn’t have to worry about burning anything while he was making the newest pizza. He was frowning at the slip of paper that Bobby had handed in, when Kate walked in - and she wasn’t alone. He transferred his frown to her. The woman Kate was escorting was wearing a pencil skirt, four inch heels, and some sort of sheer blouse. Her red hair was curled and was past her shoulders. He knew she wasn’t with the Health department - he had dealt with that highly unlikeable man days ago. He ignored her for now and shoved the paper in Kate’s face. “What in the hell does this say?”

She took it with a mouthed “sorry” at the other woman. She squinted at the paper and said, “Prosciutto. Light bake.” 

He grunted at her and took the paper back. He went back to his prep table and started working the dough. Kate cleared her throat. “Clint, this is Natalie Rushman.” He nodded at the pair and started tossing the dough. “Natalie has a proposition for us.”

He looked over. “If this is one of your friends sending over a stripper-gram and you playing along, I would appreciate not doing this in the kitchen. Very unhygienic.”

Kate put her hand over her face, but Natalie looked coolly at him. “I assure you, Mr. Barton, that I am not here to take off my clothes.”

He put the dough down and stretched it on the pan, began adding the sauce. “Well, then, please proceed.”

“I work for a very private man, who likes to support new businesses in this section of town whenever possible. However, due to various scheduling conflicts, he’s often not able to visit on his own. He sends me to these businesses to bring him samples and reviews of the various endeavors.” 

Clint, now finished topping the pizza, walked over and shoved it in the oven. “You can place a carry out order at the bar.” 

Natalie smiled thinly at him. “My employer is also...well, we’ll say cautious. He asks that I watch over the making of any unsealed items. To ensure his safety, you understand.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the table. “Can’t say that I do. I’m just a simple Iowa farmboy. Seems paranoid to me.”

She lifted a brow at him, her green eyes looking mildly annoyed. “It wouldn’t seem that way, if you had survived more than one attempt on your life.” He shrugged, and her eyebrow came down. “We would, of course, compensate you additionally for the inconvenience this may cause.”

He cocked his head at her. “Not really sure that’s worth it, Ms. Rushman.”

“We would offer compensation of $100 per pizza ordered.”

He looked inclined to disagree when Kate hissed, “ _Clint_!” and began rapidly signing to him. Natasha pretended not to know what was going on. Kate was perfectly aware she knew sign language, and she didn’t see any reason to interrupt when they were on the same side.

_Don’t be stupid. Take the money! You’re already doing it, may as well make an easy 100 bucks._

_I don’t want her back here, watching me. It’s weird and I don’t trust it. Who’s the guy she works for? Why won’t she say his name?_ ” He narrowed his eyes at Kate. _Did you do this? Is she some kind of plant for Tony Stark? I don’t know why your Avenger buddies are so interested in me, but this is ridiculous. I’m trying to run a business._  

Kate rolled her eyes. _Why don’t you_ ask _if she works for Tony, dummy? I didn’t have anything to do with this!_

He turned to Natalie. “Do you work for Tony Stark? Because that’s a deal breaker. Tony can come down here and get his own damn pizza.”

Natalie scoffed. “I can assure you that I do not work for Mr. Stark. I’m sure he’d fly himself down here in his little iron suit if he wanted to sample your wares. My employer is much more discrete.”

Kate started signing at him again. _See, I told you._

_Yeah, yeah._ He took a long look at her. He was well aware that she had been the source of a great deal of his seed money - and her connections at the bank had gotten him the rest. She was right. Having to let a rather beautiful woman watch him make pizza for twenty minutes was worth $100. “Well, Ms. Rushman, we have a deal.”

Natasha smiled. Step one was complete - she had made herself known and had a reason for coming in contact with him. “I’m thrilled to hear that, Mr. Barton. If you have time today, it would be very much appreciated.”

He looked over at the order cradle and, they both saw it was empty. He grit his teeth. “Sure thing.”

Natasha smiled internally. He’d walked himself right into that, and knew it. Clint Barton did not like to be manipulated, especially into politeness. “Excellent. Spinach and tomato, I believe the medium.” He stalked over to his prep table while she and Kate met each other’s eyes. “A pleasure, Ms. Bishop.”

“All mine, Ms. Rushman. If you’ll excuse me.” Kate left, and Natasha walked closer to Clint. He was muttering under his breath, as he tended to when he was put out about something. Natalie was polite enough not to comment. At least for now.

“That’s quite a bit of dough, isn’t it?” Clint took a deep breath in and let it out. Chose not to comment and continued working the dough out. Natasha moved to inspect the kitchen - though she did enjoy seeing his arms working. “Do you plan to expand your menu? I see you have deep fryers here, but that they aren’t turned on. There are some truly delicious desserts you could develop, with the use of dough and frying.”

“Thanks for the advice.” He scowled. She was right - he did have too much dough for a medium. He cut out a chunk and put it back with the rest. When he looked at her to see if she had noticed, she had a little grin on her face but didn’t say anything for a minute.

He spread the sauce and topped with cheese. She started talking again and he couldn’t do it anymore. He took his hearing aids out, and shoved them in his pocket. Since he wasn’t looking at her, Natasha rolled her eyes. It was just so...Clint Barton. She pulled out her phone and started texting Pepper. If he wanted to ignore her, she could ignore him. Out of the corner of her eye, she did note that the pizza was already in the oven.

Clint enjoyed the silence while he got the prosciutto, light bake out of the oven and hit the bell to signify it was ready. He started cleaning up a little, then cautiously put his hearing aids back in when it was time to get her pizza out. She didn’t move. He cut it up and put it in a pizza box.

“All yours,” he called to her. She put her phone away and came to take the box from him. 

“I’ll be sure to let you know his thoughts.”

Clint smirked. “I’m sure whoever he is, he’ll be thrilled with Hawkeye’s.”

She hummed a noncommittal noise and turned to leave. Before she left the doors, she called out, “By the way, Mr. Barton, your sauce on the stove is too salty. You may want to fix that before dinner.”

  
He whirled around to defend his recipe, but she was already gone. He stalked over to the pots on the stove and grabbed a tasting spoon. Taking a defiant bite, he threw the spoon angrily in the trash and then allowed himself the childish action of also kicking the can. Dammit, she was right.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint messes up. Girls' night. A (vague) threat comes. And a (very vague) plan is hatched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made the crazy decision to start on my MBA - which sadly means not a lot of time for writing! My updates will be slower but still coming, I promise! I know (mostly) where this is going, and as always am happy to share with you :-)

Natalie continued to come to Hawkeye’s about three times a week - apparently, he was a hit. Sometimes lunch, sometimes dinner, sometimes so close to closing he had begun clean up. He tried to be polite, but there was just so much  _ noise _ when she was there. She would talk about what he assumed to be anything that came into her head. He would grind his teeth until he couldn’t take it anymore, yanking out his hearing aids to get some peace. And  _ then _ , she would just coolly raise an eyebrow at him and pull out her phone. She would take a snarky parting shot and he  _ never _ got to bite back - she moved incredibly quickly on those stilts of hers. 

When Darcy came back to the kitchen, grinning like a loon, he wanted to bang his head against the brick wall. “She was just here yesterday! Normally I get a couple of days as a break!”

“Maybe she likes you?” She was laughing and he narrowed his eyes at her. She suddenly stopped. He was still scary as shit when he got that death look on his face. Darcy wasn’t sure how much his “normal” persona would prevent him from using his master assassin skills. “Woman up, Clint. You’ve got a sexy redhead that hangs out with you three times a week and pays you for it. Not many guys can say that and have it be a perfectly legal arrangement.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Sexy, hmm?”

“Oh please. You’ve seen the woman. Who wouldn’t hit that?”

He fist bumped her. It was true. Natalie was drop dead gorgeous. He’d had a few...graphic dreams that featured a woman that looked eerily similar to her. He never called that woman Natalie, though. “Bet you were pretty wild in college, Lewis.”

“You couldn’t even handle it, Barton.”

He laughed as she walked out of the kitchen. He could hear Kate laughing through the swinging door, and he went ahead and stuffed his aids in his pocket. He hadn’t had the recovery time, maybe he could just pretend that he forgot them…

He turned around and started rolling out dough, hurriedly. He jumped a little when he felt the vibrations of Kate banging her hand on the table. He turned to her, putting on his innocent face. 

_ Sorry, forgot my aids this morning. _

_ You’re so full of shit, Barton. You and I talked  _ this morning _ about a shift supervisor.  _

He looked sheepish at that. He’d forgotten.  _ Oh. Yeah. They were bothering me. _

_ They were not! You’re just being  _ rude.  _ All you have to do is make small talk while a pizza bakes. That’s not that much time! _

_ But it is! She just talks and talks and talks about nothing. It hurts to listen to that much nothing. _

Natasha appeared by Kate, arms crossed over each other. Kate recognized the look on her face, and it was tempting to back up a couple of steps. If Clint had been in his right mind, she would have left altogether. As it was, she still felt partially responsible for him. 

_ Listen, we’ve been over this. You’re already making pizza, her “boss” is willing to pay more for it - and all you have to do is not be an asshole. Why is that so difficult? _

_ Because  _ and she could almost hear the whine  _ she’s boring. _

Kate was getting ready to scold him but Natasha had clearly had enough.  _ I promise you, Clint Barton, that I am not  _ boring.  _ If you had listened, or tried to participate in a conversation more than  _ uh huh  _ or  _ okay _ , it would have occurred to your bird brain to ask how I learned about such a variety of topics. Maybe it would have occurred to you that I was trying to find common ground so we could have a  _ real  _ conversation. Excuse me for thinking you were more than pizza and arrows! _

Natasha Romanoff did not stomp, but she came as close as she could in Louboutins. As she neared the door, she said, “ **I will get you back, my hawk. If only so I can beat your thick skull without feeling guilty** ,” in Russian. 

Clint scratched his head.  _ What did she say? _

Kate shrugged.  _ No idea. But it sounded pretty pissed off and Russian. _ She smacked him in the back of the head and left. 

Clint’s thought was,  _ Well, shit. _

He had to go back to making pizza, but it wasn’t as easy to block out his thoughts as it normally was. Darcy glared at him every time she came into the kitchen until her shift ended. Kate didn’t come back - Trish, one of the waitresses, helpfully informed him that she had left shortly after the shift change. He was left to try and figure out how he could apologize. By closing time, he had zero ideas, and was hoping that he could sleep on it. 

While Clint was trying to solve his puzzle, Kate had stopped and picked up Thai from Natasha’s favorite place, and a few bottles of her favorite vodka. She sent a text to Maria, Pepper, Jane, and Darcy that just said, “6 PM.” She received confirmation from all of them. She sent a memo to Jarvis as well, so he would give Natasha the heads up. She used an Uber to Avengers Tower, scanned and bio’d into the elevator, and headed to the Avenger floors. “Agent Romanoff is in the gym, Ms. Bishop.”

Kate sighed. So, Natasha had ignored Jarvis. “Thank you, Jarvis. Can you let Group : Power Behind the Throne know?”

“Of course.” She headed to the gym, not bothering to put down her bags. If Nat was in that kind of mood, she’d never get her to a common area anyway. She was about halfway when Darcy joined her. 

“Didn’t think you liked getting to the gym this fast unless Bucky and Cap are sparring.”

Darcy had a little extra bounce in her step. “Caught him at a good time. He and Cap had just finished up but he had all this extra energy that he just had to get out, and today is not the day I wouldn’t help out a super soldier. Now I get food and alcohol!” 

“God, Darce, ever since you started getting laid on the reg you just have no sympathy.”

“Nope. Buck said Maria was already in the gym when they finished up, so she might be a little late.”

“Neither of you are getting spring rolls.”

“Boo, Kate Bishop, boo!” She still helpfully got the door for Kate, though. Natasha didn’t acknowledge them as they walked in, but they knew she was aware of their presence. She continued to beat the hell out of some droid that Tony had developed. Kate didn’t bother with the food yet, just got the vodka out. Tony kept glasses for his fancy smoothies in a small bar area, and Darcy went and grabbed those. They poured 6 glasses and sat on the bleachers with their own drinks. A couple of minutes went by of them watching Natasha, and at exactly 6, Maria and Pepper walked in and sat on the bleachers with them. Darcy handed them their vodkas, and they watched as Nat did some crazy flip over the droid, throwing one of her Stings at its neck as she went. It didn’t make the thing go down, and in fact seemed to piss it off. It turned and charged at her, making her land  _ hard _ against the mat. Darcy and Pepper winced at the sound. Jane was coming in as Natasha got her legs up, flipped the droid over, and “snapped” the neck. After she had broken three of them, Tony had programmed them to stop attacking at the point a human would be considered dead. Jane settled in with her vodka, though grumbled quietly to Darcy that she had been close to figuring out the latest problem with one of her machines.  

Natasha snagged her towel from where she had it on the floor next to the mats, and wiped her face off while she was walking over to them. Kate handed her the glass, and Natasha took a drink like it was water. She slung the towel over her shoulder. “While I appreciate good food and drinks, I’m not sure this was entirely necessary.”

“Doesn’t hurt to even out after a mission,” Maria responded, business like. 

“I didn’t have a mission.”

Maria repressed the eye roll. “I would consider it a personal mission.”

Darcy, into her glass, said, “It’s called Operation : Get Natasha Laid.” 

Pepper covered her mouth to hide her smile, Kate did roll her eyes, and Maria and Natasha both glared at her. Jane told her, “That’s one. Pace yourself, Darcy.” She gestured to Natasha. “You know the routine.”

Natasha sighed. She did know the routine for “girls night,” and it did not involve her time in the range like she had planned. “Meet you in my apartment in ten. Jarvis will give you access.” She downed the rest of her drink, handed the empty glass to Kate, and went back to pick up her bag. She headed out, but called behind her, “No earlier, Lewis! You get handsy when you drink!”

The other women looked at Darcy, who shrugged. “It was like one time. She really should let it go.”

Pepper said, “Never tell Tony.”

Maria held up her glass. “Cheers to that.” They all raised their glasses, clinked, and downed their vodka. Pepper took the empties and deposited them back on the bar. They helped Kate to gather up the bags of food and alcohol. They stopped in the communal kitchen to grab plates, as well as silverware for whomever decided the chopsticks were too much work. Darcy checked on her other two scientist charges, and instructed Jarvis to cut the power to the lab by eleven. They headed to Natasha’s apartment, and Jarvis let them in. They deposited their bags on various kitchen counters. 

Natasha was coming out of her bedroom, her hair still wet from her shower, and now wearing soft gray sweatpants and a black tank top. She got down more glasses and poured their drinks. Kate and Maria had efficiently unpacked the boxes of takeout and opened them up. Pepper was relaying to Natasha her latest headache with the board of Stark Industries, Jane was trying to get Darcy to talk about science while Darcy resisted as they filled their plates, and Kate and Maria leaned back against the counter. They both crossed their arms. “You know I’m not one for feelings, Kate-”

“Thank God for that-”

“Shut up. We’re having a moment. Don’t ruin it. I just wanted to tell you that I’m proud of you, and how you’re handling Barton. We’re going to get him back. But he needs you.” Maria turned her head to look at her. “He always said he sees better from a distance, but he’s too far out. So you need to be his eyes. We’re starting to hear chatter about a missing Avenger. Having you has decreased it, made it seem like more of a rumor, but eventually someone will decide to do some fact checking.” Kate met her gaze, determination in every feature. 

“We’ll be ready.”

Maria smiled and said, “That’s hilarious!”

It took Kate half a second, but she caught on and laughed. When she turned back, Natasha was there and didn’t look pleased. Kate quickly pushed off from the counter and uncrossed her arms to grab a plate, dumping food on at random and hurrying to the couch after she grabbed her drink and a set of chopsticks. Jane, Darcy, and Pepper were already in the living area and on various surfaces. Maria had shoved a plate in Natasha’s hands and was filling her own. They grabbed their own utensils, and Kate made sure her mouth was full of noodles when Natasha first sat down. 

“As much as I love Thai, Kate, do you or Natasha want to explain why we are eating it after Natasha tested Tony’s new droids?” Pepper inquired. 

Kate, mouth still full of noodles, grinned closed mouth at Natasha, who somehow had made the act of picking up pad thai with chopsticks look elegant. She sighed. “Things are not progressing on the Clint front as I had expected.”

Maria spoke up, “Meaning he’s not drooling on your Jimmy Choos?”

“It’s Clint Barton. I don’t normally have to  _ try _ to make him interested.”

Darcy snorted. “Do you really have to try with any guy?” Natasha tipped her head in acknowledgement. “But I will tell you, he is pretty impressed with the package. Told me so himself.”

“Thank you?” Natasha responded.

“It was a compliment,” Darcy assured her. “But, real talk? He is like 24/7 grumpy cat. He’s Grumpy Clint. The talking was a lot.”

Kate pretended to be fascinated with choosing which piece of chicken she would eat next. “I am aware of his attitude. I was hoping to trigger a memory.”

Kate sighed. “Tried that. I’ve taken him random places, hoping it would trigger something. No dice. Whatever he got hit with has blocked that stuff pretty thoroughly. I think it had some delays, too. He remembers that he woke up in Avengers Tower, and he doesn’t have a super high opinion of Tony, but he doesn’t remember seeing the rest of the team. Found that out when he didn’t recognize Darcy. There’s been no recollection of Nat as anything other than Natalie.”

Jane looked at Natasha thoughtfully. “Well, we know that the first experiments haven’t been a success. That doesn’t mean the hypothesis is bad. It just means we need to change how we test the theory.”

Kate nodded. “He’s noticed there are gaps in his memory. I don’t want to risk a freak out like when he was first recovered, so I don’t tell him the answer.”

Jane nodded. “A good decision. He’s already rejected the idea of himself as a hero - trying to reinforce the truth as we know it will only harm your relationship.”

Nat blew out a breath. “Any suggestions, ladies? Because I am still pretty angry that he called me boring.”

Maria winced in sympathy. Natasha did not like to be patronized. They all listened to the recounting of the restaurant earlier that day. 

Pepper smiled and leaned back. “Oh, this is easy.” They all looked at her. “Make him beg.” She sipped from her glass as Natasha weighed the idea in her mind, and then held up her glass. 

  
“Make him beg,” she repeated, and they all toasted the idea. The mood lightened considerably, and they were able to laugh and have a good time. Pepper left a little before eleven, when Jarvis reminded her that it was almost lights out in the lab. The rest followed shortly after. Darcy gave a long hug to all of them, but Jane steered her out with Maria following. Kate helped Natasha clean up. As she was about to leave, Natasha pulled her into a quick hug, with a thank you. Kate smiled and left to grab an Uber home. Operation : Get Natasha Laid had turned into Operation : Make Clint Barton Sorry, and she knew exactly how to play that game.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, Darcy and Kate torture Clint, and Clint (kind of) gets his act together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very excited about this chapter! Hopefully you guys like it just as much. I'll try not to leave you waiting TOO long for the next.

Kate woke up the next morning around 10 with the type of headache one can expect from drinking straight vodka. She managed to get coffee on, and downed two cups before the pounding receded. She had a range in her apartment that she used when she needed quiet to think, and decided that would be the perfect place to try and plot her point of the operation. She changed and grabbed her gear. 

Darcy had woken up with a dry mouth, but thankfully no headache. She vaguely remembered James all but pouring water down her throat before she successfully distracted him. She was going to lie there for a bit longer, but nature was calling. She opened one eye experimentally. Felt gritty, but no pain. There was a fresh glass of water on her nightstand - she knew it was fresh by the post it note stuck to it that read, “Amoeba-free.” She sat up, walked hurriedly to the en suite to take care of business (including brushing her teeth), and came back to grab the water and a t shirt before she walked into the main living area. “Thanks, doll, for the water.” She took a large drink.

“Darcy! Pants!” The blonde man in UnderArmor covered his eyes while sitting at the kitchen island. The brunette sitting next to him, similarly attired, laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

“You knew she was in here, punk, it’s your own fault you weren’t ready.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “And you’re welcome for the water.”

She crossed over the room and kissed him on the cheek before going around the island, taking one more drink, and setting her glass in the sink. “Steve, you can’t even see me from the waist down right now.”

He kept his hands over his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Maria will know.”

“That’s because you tell her!”

“She’s got you there, Rogers.”

Steve, keeping his eyes closed as he removed his hands, did a half smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Good run today. Be ready to suit up, Maria was muttering something about Pepper and publicity stunts.”

“If you’re lucky it’s a pie eating contest.”

Steve started to gesture but then remembered Darcy was there and stopped himself. She laughed. “Believe it or not, Cap, I’ve given people the finger before. And had people give it to me. In fact, James-” the rest of her remark was muffled, thankfully for Steve, as James had covered her mouth with his hand.

Steve, cheeks bright red, turned in his chair and stood up to leave. Only then did he open his eyes. “Just be ready, Buck. You’re my eye in the sky.” 

Steve let himself out, thanking God that James had kept his hand over Darcy’s mouth until after the door was closed. His super hearing could still kind of hear her comment through the door - something about knowledge of non violent coercion tactics. He didn’t want to know.

He walked the halls to his place, trying to figure out a way to get out of whatever Pepper had planned for him. Jarvis opened the door for him and he went in, wondering how easy it would be to fake a threat outside of the US that he just had to leave. Maria was getting ready to leave, dressed in a pencil skirt and blouse that drew his attention. “Leaving a little late?”

She made an annoyed noise. “ _ Someone _ distracted me when I got back last night, and I had the wrong alarm set on my phone. Thank God you went out for your run and woke me up - I was able to do the conference call from here but I’m sure there are half a dozen emergencies that have come up, and I still need to talk to Pepper about this school visit -” she stopped when he put his hands on her arms, and looked up at him.

“Maria. You’ll handle it. Just like you always do. And I’ll talk to Pepper about the visit - I’m guessing that’s the stunt I’m involved in that you tried to mention last night?”

“Yeah.” She pulled his shirt and he bent down to give her a quick kiss. “Thanks, Soldier.” 

He smiled at her. “Anytime, Commander.” Pepper knew he liked visiting kids, and now he would find the time to be there.

The comment earned him a flick of her fingers on his cheek, and then she was out the door with her Stark tablet in hand. He headed to shower and change, while she made notes on various things as she clipped at a rapid pace down the hall. She got in the elevator and typed out a quick email to Pepper to let her know Steve would be coming to see her shortly. She also sent a text to Natasha, asking if she needed any help prepping.

Natasha glanced at her phone when it went off on the table next to her. She fired back a negative answer, knowing Maria would appreciate the efficient response. She set the phone back down and took another sip of tea. She was curled up in a comfortable armchair by the window, taking a few more minutes before she donned the mask. Liho liked to sit on the back of the chair with her. She had been woken early by nightmares - as she had every day since Clint’s accident. She’d completed a complicated yoga set in an attempt to distract herself, clearing her mind, but that only worked while she was doing it. She didn’t go to the range in the mornings anymore - that had been her and Clint’s routine, and it was too painful to do so without him. She’d tried reading, but her mind couldn’t focus on the words, and she had eventually put the book down. She cleaned the weapons that didn’t need cleaning, and briefly considered going and nagging Tony about what progress had been made on a cure. She instead hacked into the lab files, and cursed her own weakness when she wanted to vomit as she saw they were no closer. 

She was the Black Widow. Natalia Romanova. Natasha Romanoff. Queen of the Assassins, per Darcy. She had been compromised long ago, she knew, but this...this was a depth of despair she didn’t know she could feel. There had been plenty of challenges in her life, and many of them associated with Clint Barton, but nothing that had prepared her to lose her partner like this. Sure, with the lifestyle they led, they had both been prepared a long time for a sudden end. Going out, guns blazing, was her style. For him to not remember her, remember their life together - she had lost him in a much more painful way. How could you lose someone when they were still there with you?

She had to be strong around the team. She used her training to continue on with their missions, though with a distance between her and the rest. If she had focused harder, she could have made that distance feel like no distance at all to them, but it seemed like so much effort now. They had earned the right to see that she was in pain, even if they would not see the full extent. 

When she finished her tea, she rose to wash the cup and put it back in the cabinet. She set out some food for Liho, who jumped down from the chair, twined between her legs once as a thank you, and then set about eating. Natasha moved into her room and opened the walk in closet. She had clothes for all sorts of jobs, but Natalie was an old cover, and one that was easy to dress. She wore discreet designer labels, all tailored perfectly. She chose her outfit carefully - she knew Kate and Darcy would see to it that Clint was at her feet before the day was out, and she wanted him to suffer (and drool) a little. 

She chose a fitted black dress with a Mandarin collar - Clint had dubbed it the mullet dress. Business in the front, party in the back. The dress, while hugging her curves, looked very simple from the front. It came to a respectable one inch above the knee, and had a tasteful lace overlay. The back had a large cutout, showing off her shoulder blades and dipping low enough that a backless bra would normally be required. She paired it with pearl earrings, a diamond tennis bracelet (that hid a small garrotte), and four inch, red, open toed heels. She applied her eye makeup a little darker, and her lips a little more red. She pinned her hair back in various twists, and she was ready. 

Clint Barton would have his tongue hanging out of his mouth when he got a look at her - as her target, she was banking on it. 

She grabbed Natalie’s purse from the table by the door on the way out. Pepper had set her up with an office at a building only a few blocks away - close enough that she could legitimately work for Stark Industries, but far enough away that she didn’t appear to work for SI. As she got into the elevator, she heard a wolf whistle from the speaker. She aimed a brilliant smile that didn’t reach her eyes at the camera. “Have a pleasant day, Mr. Stark. I hope no unfortunate lab accidents happen today.”

His voice came over the speaker, “You’re making Brucie nervous.”

She heard a male voice in the background. “No, Tony, YOU are making me nervous! Put down the acid-”

“Gotta go, Hotlips.”

Her half smirk was hopefully not seen by Tony. She schooled her features into polite interest on her walk, and set herself up in her ground level office where she would have the perfect vantage point to see Clint Barton, Human Disaster preparing himself for his inevitable doom.

 

At that moment, the man was trying desperately not to bang his head on the bar. He had customers, and he was in front of these customers. Lola had called in sick, and Luis said his cousin’s girlfriend’s brother’s best friend needed his help and he had to take the day off. Darcy told him that she was shift manager, and had approved the absences. “You can take care of the bar, right, Clint?” She’d batted her eyes at him, and when he’d asked if she had something in them, she’d thrown a order pad at him. 

It was lunch, so it’s not like he was getting a lot of drink orders. He’d been back and forth to the kitchen several times, making pizzas and then delivering them to the tables. Someone had stolen his bell, so the staff couldn’t hear when the pizza was done. Not that he minded overmuch. Darcy had dubbed it “Techno Tuesday” in the kitchen, and had somehow rigged it to where the music played incessantly in the back but was not playing in the front. He didn’t dare take his aids out, or turn them down, after yesterday. 

He placed a beer each in front of a man wearing red sunglasses and a suit, and what he assumed to be a coworker since he was also in a suit. Sunglass guy said, “Thanks, Clint. Where’s Kate?”

Clint narrowed his eyes at the guy. Clint didn’t work in the front. How would this guy know his name? The man’s coworker piped up. “We’re lawyers. Helped Kate out a few times with some real estate. Your name came up.” 

Clint shrugged. “Haven’t seen her yet today.”

Sunglass guy smiled into his glass. “Maybe she snuck upstairs while you were avoiding the kitchen music.”

That made Clint cross his arms. “How’d you know about the music?”

He tapped his sunglasses with the hand not holding his beer. “Blind. Enhances the hearing.” 

Coworker rolled his eyes. “Also, we’re the ones who talked Darcy out of doing Techno Tuesday last week in the restaurant.” He turned to his friend. “Hurry up, Murdock, we might have actually gotten a client.”

Sunglasses - Murdock? - shook his head. “Finish the beer, Foggy.” He handed Clint a twenty, and by the time Clint was finished ringing them up and getting the change, they were done with their drinks. Murdock left a couple ones on the bar and they headed out, Foggy promising he wouldn’t walk him into a scaffolding again. 

No other customers came to the bar after the duo left. He spotted Darcy’s iPod underneath the bar and went to examine it. He crouched down to start looking at the various wires. He was pretty sure some of them were just there as decoys. It was working - he had no idea which one to pull to stop the music in the kitchen, but leave the main music on. 

A voice came from behind him. “Clint. What are you doing?”

He managed to not hit his head on the bar in his surprise, and tried to put a sheepish look on his face. When he saw it was Kate, the pretense fell away to be relief. “You’re here!”

She looked down at him, in the way that you can have only by being born with the proverbial silver spoon. “Of course I’m here. I’m a  _ professional. _ ”

“Listen, Katie, I’m really sorry about yesterday-”

“Why are you apologizing to me? I mean other than me being embarrassed right along with you, this situation is not between you and me. You offended a client who was willing to pay an obscene amount of money for our product, just to try and help us out.”

He did look sheepish then. “Well, I didn’t know she knew sign language-”

She cut him off again. “Not the point!” she hissed at him. “I’m sure you were being all Clint Barton, and she was gracious enough to keep coming back. Do I need to remind you of the percentage of new restaurants in New York that fail within their first year?”

He stifled a groan. He’d heard  _ that _ statistic almost every day since he pitched the idea of a pizzeria to her. “No, Kate, I know.”

“So if she wants to talk while you make pizza for a wealthy, influential business person who could do a great deal of benefit for our business, you let her talk.  _ Some people _ might even encourage you to respond.  _ Some people _ might think an apology in person would be warranted.”

He looked at her, wide eyed. “What!? Come on, Kate, don’t you have like her email address? I could write the thing.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Has to be in person. This is not just a whoops, sorry. We need Natalie to actually want to come back here.” She could practically see him setting his feet down. “Agree with me, Barton, or I’m telling Darcy you’re messing with her iPod.”

“You wouldn’t do it. I’m calling your bluff,” he challenged. 

She leaned forward. “Last chance,” she singsonged.

He instead turned back to the iPod, and decided to take the fastest course of action and just unhook the damn thing. He was a fast runner, he was (pretty) sure he could get up to the office before Darcy would exact revenge.

Kate shook her head. Stupid, stupid man. She raised her voice. “Clint, what are you doing with the iPod?”

Clint shot a nasty look at her, yanked the cords out of the device, and shoved it in his back pocket as he stood to make his run for it. Darcy, who he would have sworn was across the restaurant, was sliding over the bar and grabbing his arm in a hold that he (currently unknowingly to him) had personally taught her. “Give me the iPod, Barton, and we can all walk away from this.”

Kate looked at the scene smugly. She’d have to remember to show that restaurant footage to James - he’d be impressed with Darcy’s reaction time. 

He was trying to bargain with her. Idiot. “Now, now, Darcy. We both have something the other wants. I feel like we can negotiate.” She yanked his arm up a little higher. “Ow ow ow!”

Kate spoke calmly to the two of them. “Do you mind if we move this to the back? You’re distracting our patrons.”

Darcy kicked him. “Let’s go, Barton.” She held on tight as they walked back to the kitchen. As soon as they crossed the kitchen door, he moved to get out of the hold. It was harder to do when you didn’t want to injure the person performing the hold. It was even harder when your supposed  _ partner _ helped the person doing the hold by elbowing you in the solar plexus. Darcy did let him go after that.

He bent over, hands on his knees, and tried to get his breath back. He held up one hand. “Uncle, Christ!”

Darcy snorted. “You two aren’t related.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha” he wheezed out. “I give.” He stood up and pulled the object out of his pocket. He flipped it end over end a couple of times, but a menacing step from Darcy halted the action. He noticed she had an inscription on the back.  _ Sorry for New Mexico. And New York. Can’t blame London on me. Your favorite birdbrain.  _ “New Mexico, huh? They grow them big out there.”

Darcy stilled in her action of taking the iPod back from his outstretched hand. “What do you mean?”

He scratched the back of his neck and frowned. “Just remember this big blonde guy in New Mexico. He was huge.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I’m sorry. Those are the words of the day.”

Darcy had raised her eyebrows almost to her hairline when she looked at Kate, but schooled herself back into neutrality when she took the iPod from him. “Well, from what I hear you have one more apology to make.”

“Kate,” he whined, “come on.  _ Partners _ .”

She rolled her eyes at him. “And you should do as your partner asks.”

He set his mouth in a line. “No.”

“Fine.” She nodded to Darcy. “Go ahead, Darce.”

Darcy smiled evilly and started scrolling through her iPod. “Congratulations, Clint Barton! You have graduated from Techno Tuesday to Tween Tuesday! You’ll be listening to all of the tween top hits. And,” she pulled his bell from her apron pocket, “no more excuses to get out of the kitchen!”

He’d heard of torture tactics, but this? She was like a criminal mastermind. He just had to hope that her playlist would run out. How much of this crap could she actually listen to, anyway? He snatched the bell from her and put it back in its place. Darcy went out front to hook her system back up, and Kate went upstairs. He could do this!

 

He couldn’t do this. It was 4:30. The volume had been cranked up three times. She hadn’t repeated a track in the whole four hours he had been forced to listen.  He’d tried to escape upstairs under the pretense of doing paperwork, and Kate had sent him back down. She’d told him, “You know there is only one way out of this, Barton.”

He couldn’t believe it. Clint Barton, the Amazing Hawkeye, badass (former) mercenary, was cracking under pressure from Darcy Lewis. He texted Kate and said, “You win.”

Within moments, the music had cut off into blissful silence, and Kate was coming down the stairs. She handed him a business card. “Here’s her office. Make it good.”

He’d done a Snoopy walk on his way out the door to the alley. He missed Darcy and Kate high fiving in the kitchen. He let the door slam shut behind him and walked away, muttering to himself. He hadn’t much luck sleeping again last night - lots of what he assumed to be Russian cursing, explosions, and a searing pain in his left shoulder. He’d woken sweaty and disoriented, reaching across the bed with a hand grasping at the empty air. He hadn’t shared his bed (for sleeping) with anyone since going straight, so why did he look like he was trying to hold hands with someone? The angry females, and Darcy’s musical torture, were just icing on top of a crappy cake. He could apologize to Natalie, get her to come back to Hawkeye’s, and maybe she’d be able to convince her boss that she didn’t have to watch all the food get made. 

Slightly cheered by that thought, he spent the next several blocks practicing his apologetic face. It had a hint of lower lip, a push on the puppy dog eyes that Kate sported when she wanted something, and a little tilt of the chin towards the chest. 

He was practically at the building when he stopped dead. Wait, weren’t you supposed to bring flowers or something when you were apologizing to a woman? He thought he remembered that from somewhere. He looked around for some kind of convenience shop or bodega that he could buy flowers. Not seeing one, he turned around and started to walk down the street towards the way he came from. He didn’t see one that way, either. He turned around and walked back towards her building, and continued on past. Nothing. He walked back to her building with his hands fisted in his hair. Then he figured that made him look like a crazy person, and he used the glass as a mirror while he tried to smooth it back down.

On the other side of the tinted window, Natasha crossed her arms under her breasts and tilted her head to the side. Did he really think that was helping? She tilted her head to the other side as he rolled his shoulders and shook his neck out, a technique she knew he only did when he was getting ready for a fight - she’d seen it often enough before. Interesting. She straightened as he took a deep breath and put on the smile that had charmed lesser women before her. Well. Two could play at that game. She’d already dressed to impress this morning, and now was the time to push her advantage. Though, she decided to give him a minute before showing off the back of the dress, in the interest of fair play.. Her assistant knocked on the door. “Clint Barton here to see you?” 

She took a seat at the two person glass table and opened a file folder, delicately crossing her legs. “Show him in.” The folder had newspaper clippings of various restaurants, and she made a show of sorting them. He walked in, as smooth as Clint Barton ever got. “Mr. Barton. Quite a way out of your way, aren’t you?”

“Not at all, Ms. Rushman. Please, call me Clint.” 

She made a noncommittal noise. “Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the seat across the table from her. “I’m doing some research.”

He flopped down, still smirking at her. He lazily glanced at the sheets of paper, and she wasn’t so big that she didn’t feel a small sense of satisfaction that it wiped the grin off his face. “What’s all this?"

She raised her eyebrows minutely, and responded, “Since my presence has affected you so negatively, it appears that I must find another local eatery for my employer.” 

He held his hands up, palm out. “Whoa, I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” She could see him scrambling a little. She pushed her shoulders back, just a touch. Impressively, his gaze didn’t move. 

“I don’t believe so. You made your feelings quite well known.”

Now he scrubbed his hands over his face. Kate was going to kill him!  _ Get it together, Barton.  _ “I’m sure we could figure it out. I wanted to apologize. I was pretty rude the other day. Maybe I could make it up to you?” She didn’t respond, other than to settle back into her chair slightly. “I mean, there’s gotta be something I can do to show you how sorry I am. Flowers?” The look she gave him clearly said  _ You’re an idiot. _ He started talking again, mostly to himself. “No, right, doesn’t really count if you know they’re coming. Knew I should have stopped and gotten those. I’m really good at carnival games but who the hell wants a giant bunny in their house?” She recrossed her legs. “I used to be good at building stuff, but you don’t look like you have a lot of IKEA. Free pizza? I mean, I own a pizza restaurant and who doesn’t love free pizza?” He looked at her, kind of hopeful. She uncrossed her legs and sat back up straight, preparing to stand. She looked at him in a way that he could tell meant she was nearing the end of her patience. He pressed his fingers into his eyes for a moment. “Right, right. Someone who is willing to pay an ungodly amount probably doesn’t actually want free pizza.”

She stood up and turned to go back to her desk. She knew when he had put his hands down, because the stream of consciousness stopped as he saw the back of the dress. The dress was as fitted as a pencil skirt, and she knew exactly what those heels did to her ass. She slowly turned around, pushing her shoulders blades together and arching her back just slightly. “While I’m sure these are all...heartfelt gestures, Mr. Barton, I’m afraid I won’t be able to accept them, for the reasons you yourself just mentioned.”

He seemed to be in a daze for a moment, and then snapped back out of it. “Just a sex - sec -”

“If you’ll show yourself out, Mr. Barton, I have quite a bit of work to do.” She placed her left hand on her waist, and gestured to the door with her right.

He stood up and put his hands in his pockets. He was about halfway to the door when he turned on his heel toward her. “How about dinner?” She lifted a brow at him and placed her right hand on her waist, both hands now there. “Like a nice place.” She tilted her head to one side as she walked toward him, stopping when she was within arms’ reach. She lifted one hand up as if she was going to touch him. He didn’t move, just kept eye contact with her. 

Fisting her hand, she brought it under her chin and kept the eye contact for a moment, her eyes searching his. She lowered her lashes and half smiled. “Dinner it is. Clint.”

He smiled down at her - a real smile, not the showman’s smirk he’d been sporting when he walked in. “Seven o’clock?”

She walked towards the office door, putting a little extra sway in her hips. She stopped before she opened it to look back at him over her shoulder. He hadn’t moved. “Sounds perfect.” She opened the door and he startled a little, then walked toward her. Just as he was walking out, she said, “I’ll take care of the reservation and be in touch with the address.” 

“Uh, Natalie, I can do that-” She shut the door in his face, and he blew out a breath. “Okay then. See you at seven,” and he walked out, whistling. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY HERE - Date night!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am SO SORRY this has taken so long. I wanted to get it just right, and real life has been busy these last few weeks. Sadly, it's going to continue to be busy, but thanks to getting my act together, I can now write on my phone :-)
> 
> Also, I am terrible at replying to comments, so thank you to all my commenters (and kudos-ers?). I *squee* a little anytime I get an email! Thanks to agentsofpuppies, kiss_me_cassie, quietlyimplode, science_weasels, hurd, kate37, primroas, zuzuzu, blackhawkschild, and joey99.
> 
> ***French is from Google Translate, in case it's not correct!

Natasha shamelessly used Pepper’s name to get herself and Clint a table at one of the best French restaurants in the city. Lots of white linen, silverware enough for a state dinner, and fancy bread that Clint grumbled about. He’d said a nice place, after all. He knew what he was most likely getting into. She texted Kate the name of the restaurant and address to pass on to Clint, and then headed home to get herself ready.

Kate whistled at the text, recognizing the name of the restaurant. Operation: Make Clint Barton Sorry apparently was not complete. She’d chased Clint upstairs as soon as he got back and told her what was happening. Lucky for their dinner crowd, one of the waiters had also worked in the kitchen of a pizza restaurant previously, so Clint hadn’t been able to use that as an excuse. She walked through the kitchen, stopping briefly to make sure that Peter was doing okay before going upstairs to the loft. She let herself in and greeted Lucky, who bounded down the steps from the bedroom enthusiastically. “Kate!?” Clint yelled, maybe a little desperately.

She bent down to rub Lucky a little more enthusiastically. “I know. I know. We’re going to get them back together, aren’t we? We’re going to make Clint all better. Maybe smarter than before.” Lucky wagged his tail in what she assumed was agreement. When Clint yelled her name again, she sighed as she stood and followed Lucky up the stairs. Clint was staring into his closet, hands laced together on top of his head as he stood there in a towel. The position showed off his lats, and she wondered if her arms would look like that if she stood in the same position. Filing that away for later, she yelled, “Clint!” In the whiniest voice she could imagine.

He turned from his waist to look at her. “What?”

“That’s you. That’s what you sound like.”

He frowned at her. “Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah - no, we’re not doing this. I’ll be the adult, like always.”

He waved a hand at her from the top of his head dismissively. “Whatever. 12 year old.”

She did not stomp her foot, but gave him a look that clearly said she was not impressed. He grinned at her cheekily, then turned back to his closet. She walked up next to him and then flicked him in the stomach. “Hey!”

“You’re losing yours abs, Hawkeye. Too much pizza.” He scowled at her as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“We’re not all superheroes, Katie-Kate. I’m at an above average fitness level for the American male.”

She shrugged one shoulder at him. “If you say so.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him rubbing one hand over his stomach. She amazingly kept the smile off her face, and the laughter out of her voice, when she asked, “So, are we looking for the answer to all of life’s mysteries in your closet?” She started moving clothes around on hangers to see what their options were.

“I don’t even know where we’re going. I told her someplace nice, I figured she’s classy and she’d like that. More of an apology if we go somewhere she likes.”

“Well, since I’ve dedicated my life to saving others, you’ll be happy to hear I know exactly where you’re going.” She waved her phone at him and didn’t even protest when he snatched it out of her hand. He unlocked it and opened her messages. He wordlessly handed the phone back to her when it prompted for a fingerprint. She held her finger to the screen and then opened the appropriate message, handing the phone back. He frowned at the phone.

“La Cascade de Lys?” He looked up at her. “French, really?”

She patted him on the shoulder. “Start from the outside and work your way in. Now, let me see…” she trailed off and started pushing clothes aside with a vengeance. He tossed her phone on the bed, then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and try to get his hair back under control. When he came back out, she had laid a suit on his bed with a dress shirt and tie, and was on her knees throwing stuff behind her as she moved into the closet. He grabbed the provided clothes, except the jacket, and went back into the bathroom to change. He frowned a little when he buttoned the shirt and noticed the stomach was a little tighter; the shoulders, a little looser. Guess he did need to get back into his old routine. He left the top button undone and put the tie around his collar, leaving it untied as he came back out. Kate had emerged from the closet, hair slightly mussed but dress shoes in hand. “There are some scary things in there, Barton. You haven’t even lived here that long!”

“Life’s mysteries?” Was Clint’s response. He grabbed a pair of black socks out of his dresser and sat on the bed to put them on. Kate handed him the dress shoes, and those went on as well. He stood and headed downstairs. Kate grabbed the jacket and her phone from the bed and followed him. She knew he’d wait until the last second to tie the tie, and only if she grabbed him before he went out the door. Which, looking at her phone clock, needed to be soon. He was in the kitchen, rummaging around the coffee pot. She went over, laying the jacket on the counter, and slapped his hands away. “Hey!”

She turned him to face her and buttoned the top button. As she got to work on the tie, she chose her words carefully. “This is important, Clint.”

He had a small crease between his brows. “I know, Kate, you already told me-”

She cut him off. “ _Listen_ . You’re down a path that I can’t follow, Clint. And even though I’m trying, I can’t always be there to have your back. I’m trusting you to make the right call.” A corner of her mouth tilted up. “Despite what others think, you are normally a good judge of people. Of _character_ . And if that means you make a different call than what others would, you do that. I know those words may not mean anything to you right now, but they will. I know they will. And Nat? She’s a part of that.” She finished tying the knot and looked in his eyes while she tightened it just so. “You think I’m being silly. But I’m serious, Clint. _She is important_.” She looked back down at her work, unnecessarily straightening the knot. “You can trust her.”

Clint put his hands around her wrists, stopping her nervous movements. She didn’t look him in the eye. “Kate, it’s just dinner.”

She quietly slipped out of his hold and turned to the door, whistling for Lucky to follow. She stopped when she got to the door, one hand on the knob. She turned her head back towards him, looking down at the floor. “It’s more than dinner, Clint.” She smiled and looked at him, eyes mysteriously wet. “Just...be yourself. Don’t gloss over the bad parts. Don’t be afraid to be you.”

He nodded, speechless at the sudden tears that were so un-Kate like, and she left. He was frowning at the door when his phone went off with a text. “U R L8” and he responded to Darcy “not yet.” He rolled his shoulders, gnabbed his wallet and shrugged into the jacket. He left, mulling over Kate’s speech. He exited through the alley instead of the kitchen/restaurant, wanting some time to gather himself. He wasn’t surprised to see a car waiting for him - Natalie struck him as the type to be prepared. He focused on his breathing through the car ride, going to the space in his head he used to go to before a performance. The car rolled to a stop, and Clint stared out the window for a few seconds. The driver cleared his throat subtly, and he got out, still staring. She was...well, he already knew she was gorgeous, but _this._ _This_ made him check that his tongue was in his mouth.

Natasha was in a blue dress that made him think of twilight in Iowa. Her hair was down and curling wildly, brushing her bare shoulders and playing over the top of the sweetheart neckline. The dress was fitted to the waist and then flared out, stopping a couple of inches above the knee. As he stood there, she spotted him and smiled, waving him over. He snapped back and went to her, shoving his hands in his pockets so he didn’t touch her.

As Clint walked over, and Natasha saw his hands shoved as far as possible in his pockets, her smile widened. He may not be her Clint right now, but she still knew all of his tells. That meant that she looked very, very good. She’d worn the dress, another favorite of his, because it had some very... _fun_ memories attached to it. Plus, it was perfect for concealing weapons. She had a knife sheath strapped to her right thigh, filled with multiple throwing knives. The pockets of the dress held her Bites, without ruining the lines of the skirt. She even had some of her taser discs in their slide holsters fastened to the hemline and neckline, thanks to Tony’s magical tailoring staff. She carried a Glock in her small handbag. She was lethal on her own, but when out with Clint Barton, it couldn’t hurt to have extra backup. Plus, she was fairly certain that his current persona wouldn’t carry weapons, so she had to be prepared for the both of them.

When Clint reached her, he awkwardly said, “Hi.”

“Hi.” She smiled up at him - friendly, but not flirting.

“So...uh...are we ready?”

“Absolutely.” She wound her arm through his, his muscular arms radiating tension. They walked the few feet to the door, and he hurriedly disentangled himself to open it for her. She walked to the maître d’ and spoke to him in quiet French. Clint, behind her, was impressed when she received a warm reception. The man _smiled_ at her. In a restaurant. In New York. When she turned back around, she wound her arm through his and laughed quietly at his raised eyebrows. “It’s all about who you know.” They were escorted to their table - not in the center of room, but off to the side as requested. With such short notice, and apparently a previously reserved high profile guest, they weren’t able to get a table at the back like she would normally prefer. There was only so much Pepper’s name could do.

Clint pulled the chair out for her and helped her get settled. She couldn’t quite hide the question on her face, so that when he walked around he shrugged. “I haven’t spent a lot of time in fancy places, but I can blend when I need to. Despite what Kate thinks.”

This gave her pause. They knew each other intimately, and could recite the others past like it was their own. He hadn’t needed to blend in a place like this until his SHIELD training. He may not remember specific events or people, as far as she knew, but generic memories were bleeding through. That had to be a good sign. It was something she would test later. And would have to mention to Tony. Well, maybe Bruce. But one of them. Thankfully, a waiter had come by to offer water and a wine list, and Clint had been momentarily distracted.

He ordered a mid level red, in flawless French. Natalie looked impressed, but Natasha knew that he’d been fluent in French since his time in the circus. He smiled winningly at her while handing the list back to the waiter. He didn’t speak until the other man had left. “We all have our secrets.”

She smiled coyly at him. “We absolutely do. _Vous parlez français comme un natif. Parlez-vous d'autres langues?”_ You speak French like a native. Do you speak any other languages?

“ _Un peu de ceci, un peu de cela. Bien que je peux demander de caresser le chien de quelqu'un dans plus de 20._ ” A little of this, a little of that. Although I can ask to pet someone’s dog in over 20.

That made her laugh. Natasha had needed  to learn a few of the languages so she could explain her partner’s weirdness to strangers. He picked out a few of the more obscure ones - Tagalog? Really? - until their wine arrived. He motioned to the waiter to defer to Natalie for the tasting, which she respected even as someone on the first date. Clint had always been comfortable in his own skin, and that extended to admitting when someone was more knowledgeable than he was. She nodded her approval and their wine was poured. They both ordered their meals, again in French. She could tell he was nervous. Most people fidgeted when they were nervous; Clint did the opposite. He would sit perfectly still. She assumed so as to not draw attention to himself, a habit learned from a very early age. She leaned forward in her chair (convey interest) and played with the rim of her wineglass. “So. Clint. What prompted you to come to my office today?”

He laughed in a self-depreciating manner. “Kate. She and Darcy - a shift supervisor - teamed up to torture me until I caved.” He took a drink of his wine. “I have seen some things but I was not prepared for those two.” He shrugged. “I guess they were right.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Oh? About?”

“An in person apology is much nicer than me sending an email.”

“Of course. I’m not sure you knew what you were getting into, though.”

“Well, once you said you would make the reservations, I was pretty nervous. And then Kate told me the name and I was a lot more nervous.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” he assured her. “If I screw this up, Kate will have my head. Possibly literally.” She didn’t look impressed. “And, of course, I _do_ owe you an apology. I’m used to having my space and kind of doing my own thing. I’m kind of bad with change,” he said as he scrubbed a hand on the back of his head.

She sat back in her chair, taking her wine with her, and smiled at him. After taking a sip, she said, “I could make you sweat, but that seems rude. I accept the apology. You won’t have to worry about Ms. Bishop.”

“That’s a relief. Well, Ms. Rushman, tell me about yourself.”

She laughed and took a drink before setting the glass on the table in its proper place, and waved the statement away. “I thought we were Clint and Natalie tonight?”

He did that knowing half-smirk that had always made her heart beat a little faster. “If you insist. Natalie.”

They were briefly interrupted by a bread selection being placed on their table, and she had to choke back a laugh. He _hated_ the bread in these places. It was _fancy_ , he said. She delicately picked a portion and laid it on her bread plate. “Why don't you tell me about yourself, Clint?”

He felt his hands and arms tense and forced himself to relax. She didn't need to know his sad story. Civilian life, he reminded himself. “What would you like to know?”

“Everything,” she purred.

He put a careless grin on his face and leaned back, forcing his body language to appear relaxed. Kate had told him to trust Natalie, and his gut was telling him the same. She may not need the full song and dance, but he'd go out on a limb and give her a little bit more than what he normally told of his background. “That's quite a bit,” he drawled, “but I'll see what I can do.

“I was born and raised in Iowa. Bounced around a lot. Even did a few years with a circus, if you can believe it. The _Amazing Hawkeye_! Never missed a shot.”

“They let a child have a gun?”

“Teenager, and no. Archery. You know, William Tell and the apple, Robin Hood, showy stuff. Turned 18, bounced around the world. Decided to come home, settle down. Met Kate, found Lucky, played the hero, and then decided to open a pizza joint.”

She leaned forward. “Played the hero?”

He smiled ruefully. “Kate’s got some extracurricular activities. She does archery too, it's how we met. Anyway, there were some Russian bad guys terrorizing my building. We teamed up and got them the hell out. I was more of the sidekick. Guess I got hurt, because I woke up in a hospital of some kind. I don't remember a lot of that, probably a head injury. The people in my building made it all a big deal, so Kate let me crash with her while we got Hawkeye’s planned out and implemented.”

Interesting. Obviously he'd met Kate while an Avenger, but didn't remember being on the team. And she'd bet Tony’s black AmEx that his recollection of meeting Kate was different than the real meeting. She'd known the story of the tracksuits. That hadn't been erased, just altered. There was a huge time gap between that event and when he'd woken up in medical, and whatever he'd been hit with had continued to work for some time if he didn't remember that mess. She was interrupted from her musings by him flicking his fingers her way. “Anything about yourself that you'd like to share?”

Clint wasn't unnerved by the look in her eyes. He knew when someone was calculating just how much truth to give. He was, however, surprised when she answered. “I grew up in Russia. I was orphaned at a young age, and sent to...boarding school. I bounced around the world,” she sent him a teasing grin, “and ended up meeting someone who convinced me to come to the US and make a difference.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I've been doing what I can ever since.”

He shouldn't pry, but he had to know. “Someone?” _Smooth, Barton. Real smooth. Christ, didn't I used to be better at this?_

That look of calculation again. A narrowing of the eyes, a tilt of the head. Clint almost squirmed under that gaze. “If that's your way of asking my current relationship status,” she said, “I am not currently involved with anyone.”

He blew out a breath and looked a little ashamed. “It was, sorry. I'm not, either. Even though you didn't ask.”

The look she gave him didn't have him thinking very clearly, and he almost missed her next words. “That's _very_ good to hear.”

They were interrupted by the waiter bringing their main course. She noticed him look distastefully at the bread basket and almost lost her composure. She smiled at him and asked innocently, “Would you like a piece of _miche_?”

“I'd rather shove like 13 breadsticks in my mouth.” He almost muttered it into his dinner as he ate.

She took a few bites and then asked, “At once or one at a time?” It was a familiar conversation, and one that brought a warmth to her heart to have again.

He looked up from his plate with a mischievous grin. “All at once, of course. It's the best way to eat breadsticks. Mass quantities.”

“You could do that?” She laughed. “That would be rather impressive.” And by impressive, she meant it would get him an affectionate slap, as it had every other time he’d tried it.

He tilted his head down, playing bashful. “I’ve got some hidden talents.”

She leaned forward, playing with the stem of her wineglass. She playfully said, “ _Do_ tell.”

“Okay, but you can’t tell anyone.” He looked around, to see if anyone was nearby, and then leaned forward. He stage whispered, “I can take off my pants without taking off my shoes.” Then he leaned back as he put his finger over his lips.

She laughed as she picked up the wineglass, taking a delicate drink. Her smile froze as she saw the woman walking up behind Clint. She carefully set her wineglass down as Whitney Frost said, “I thought I recognized you from over there!” She came up even to the table and placed a hand on Clint’s shoulder. He looked up at her, surprised. When Whitney bent down and kissed both cheeks, Natasha took the opportunity to slide one of her knives out of the thigh sheath with her left hand. She calmly left her right hand in view of the table to throw off the lurking bodyguards. The knife wouldn’t stop Whitney Frost, but it would cause enough of a delay for her to get her gun out and incapacitate the two guards.

“Surely you remember me, Mr. Barton? Whitney Frost.” She somehow managed to look down at him through her lashes, while she remained standing. Clint looked at her, and Natasha could _see_ the wheels turning in his head. For not the first time, she wanted to scream at him to snap the hell out of it, but she clamped her mouth shut. One had to be delicate with Ms. Frost, and if she was choosing to play nice, Natasha would not make the first move.

He cleared his throat and then turned on the charm, smiling at her. “Of course! Ms. Frost, my apologies for my manners. This,” he gestured across the table at Natasha, “is my date, Natalie Rushman. Natalie, Whitney Frost.”

The women smiled coolly at each other. Natasha tightened her grip on her knife. Whitney started to move as if she was going to greet Natalie in the same way she had greeted Clint, but stopped when Natasha gave a warning glare. “We’ve met,” Natalie advised. “Ms. Frost has interacted with my employer before.”

Whitney laughed, a real laugh with her head thrown back. “Oh yes! Yes, I have. And Mr. Barton’s, too,” she said, looking back at him, hand back on his arm.

“Well, Ms. Frost, any time you’d like, you are welcome to interact with him again,” Clint said. The grip on his arm tightened painfully but then relaxed as she laughed at his continuation, “seeing as how I am, after all, self-employed.”

“How interesting.” Her gaze sharpened as she looked at him intently. He thought he saw something dark moving in her eyes, just for a moment, before Natalie interrupted.

“Ms. Frost, I believe your food has arrived to your table. Please, don’t let us keep you from the delights of Pierre.”

Whitney purred, “How thoughtful of you. Mr. Barton, Ms. Rushman, always a pleasure.” She sauntered away, the two men following her. Natasha waited until Whitney Frost was seated at her table and had started her meal before she slid the knife back in its sheath. Clint was staring at her, a little line between his eyes.

“Natalie...are you _armed_?”

She smiled cheekily at him. “Ask me no secrets, I’ll tell you no lies.” He huffed at her as she took a drink of her wine. “Of course I’m not _armed,_ ” she said, mocking his tone. “I’m simply very cautious.”

He continued to study her. She didn’t flinch under his icy blue gaze. She’d long ago learned when Clint Barton was at his most dangerous - and when he was trying to call a bluff. He was treading that line right now, and someone with less intimate knowledge of him would have easily erred on the wrong side. Moving with a quickness she would have thought he’d lost, he leaned forward and grabbed her hand. Sparks shot up her arm, but she kept her expression playful. His eyes had darkened considerably, and she could feel her pulse beating faster.

“Want to get out of here?” He asked her, in a low voice.

“God, yes,” she breathed at him and he flashed an almost feral grin. She felt a similar one on her face, that broadened as he waved for the check.

Whitney watched as the pair left, rather quickly. She drummed her fingers on the table and cleared her throat. The bodyguard on her right turned toward her. “Yes, Madame?”

“Place a call to Mr. Fisk. I need to find the new leader of the Russians.”

“Yes, Madame.” He sent a message to Ms. Frost’s assistant to advise of the request, and then resumed his post watching the restaurant while she finished her meal.

Clint gripped Natalie’s hand as they exited the restaurant. He knew she was lying about being armed. That didn't bother him. With his background, it was refreshing to know a woman he was interested in could take care of herself. He didn't normally feel a _connection_ like this. Sure, he felt connected to Kate, but in a _very_ different way. She'd been right about Natalie. He could tell from the short dinner. He probably should get to know her better, but from her response at the restaurant, she didn't mind.

This was confirmed when she tugged him into an alley, gripped his lapels, and pushed him against the wall, then forcefully kissed him. He appreciated the enthusiasm, and met it equally with his own. He buried his hands in her hair, and she slid her hands down to grab his waist. Their lips parted and their tongues met, and Natasha heard a small moan escape one of them. She wasn't entirely sure which one - though when he tugged on her hair gently, she would have given odds on it being herself.

He flipped them so now her back was against the wall, her shoulders scraping against the brick. It was a sensation she barely noticed as Clint moved down her neck. He ran his hands down the side of her body, and she hooked her right leg around his waist. He trailed one hand up the smooth skin, and she could feel him smiling against her neck. He straightened to look her in the eyes. “Not armed, hmm?” She could feel him playing with the edge of the thigh sheath.

She smirked, “Can't be too careful?”

“A half dozen throwing knives seems a little overkill for a first date.”

She smiled coyly and pulled him down for another deep kiss. When they pulled apart, they were both breathing a little heavier. “Who's to say that's all I brought?”

She took great satisfaction in the growl that came from him. Natasha laughed as he nipped playfully at her neck, though he quickly came back to her lips. They broke apart again, Clint touching his forehead to hers. “So, Nat…”

He was cut short by her phone ringing from where he bag dropped on the ground. “Is that...AC/DC?” She hurriedly disentangled herself and went to push him back, but he didn't move. “Just ignore it.”

“Trust me, as much as I want that, I have to answer. It's my employer. Well, my employer’s assistant.”

“Your employer has an assistant other than you?”

She quirked a brow at him. “I'm not an assistant.”

He held up his hands in defense. “Sorry, sorry,” and stepped back. She bent down and quickly grabbed the phone out of her purse.

“Rushman.” She turned away from him and whispered angrily into the phone in Russian. At least, he assumed it was angrily. Maybe it was just an angry language? She paused for a second, then he saw her take a deep breath. She said something short and then took the phone from her ear as she turned back to him, hitting the end button on the screen.

“Duty calls. I hope we can do this again?”

“Can't wait.”

She nodded and gave him a peck on the cheek before walking to the alley entrance. “Hey, Natalie!” She turned. “You're definitely not boring.”

  
She laughed, gave him a wave, and neatly stepped into the car that pulled up to the curb. He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the wall, head bumping painfully into the brick. He rubbed the back of his head and scowled at the raccoon calmly watching him from a nearby dumpster. “Don't worry, trash panda. I will not be sharing this section of the evening with Kate.” He stood up, squared his shoulders, and walked to the end of the alley where his car had just pulled up. “Definitely not sharing with Kate,” he muttered again as he climbed in.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha faces her teammates, Clint faces Kate (and himself), then they face each other. Oh, and what are you up to, Whitney Frost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this one. Sorry it's taking so long to get chapters up, but I promise, I am not abandoning the story! Real life is just super busy. However, your comments and kudos keep me feeling motivated to work in my spare time :-)

“Come on, Romanoff, give me something!”

She didn't respond, as busy as she was taking down her targets. She had plenty of experience in tuning out Tony - whether it was on or off mission. Steve, who should have been used to it by now as well, was grinding his teeth so hard she could hear it through the comms.

She zapped the last two flying gerbils and made sure they were properly stunned before replying. “I don't know why you're so interested, Stark.” She switched to Russian. “ **You're worse than a grandmother.** ” She started back to their original location.

Barnes snorted in amusement and said, “ **Much worse.** ” His sector was secure, if he was willing to speak.

“Romanoff, one of these days I will figure out how you got Jarvis to not translate Russian, and there will be payback.”

“IRON MAN! FOCUS!” Steve could be heard grunting with effort, and then repulsor fire started up again. “Could you save it for after we finish up here?”

Falcon came online, “I think we're mostly finished, Cap. Come on, Widow, give us something. That Assemble call got you pretty riled up.”

“Yeah, Barnes was all too happy to translate what Jarvis **couldn't**.”

She and Barnes had reached the rendezvous point and he smirked at her as she performed a rude hand gesture at him.  “Nothing happened, though when Bruce is back, I do have some info for your research.”

Wilson landed nearby as Rogers came into view, slightly jogging with his shield on his back. He arrived as Stark touched down and started laughing. “Is that why you dragged him into an alley? Research?”

The other three men looked at her - Barnes with a neutral expression, Rogers mildly blushing, and Wilson smirking. She said, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I'll show you the footage from the security cams at the Tower.” He then took off, rightly assuming that it was best to leave.

Steve wearily shook his head and touched his hand to his comm. “Debrief first, Tony!”

They all heard the cackling in response, and Steve innocently looked at Natasha. “What?”

It was her turn to grind her teeth as she headed up the ramp to the small Quinjet the others had arrived in. She busied herself with getting them ready to get off the ground. Bucky was her co-pilot, and thankfully kept his mouth shut. She pretended not to notice his wiggling eyebrows, though he did give her a disapproving look when she waited for Sam to board instead of making him fly home.

 

While Natasha was fighting flying gerbils and her teammates’ interest in her love life, Clint was successfully hiding from Kate and Darcy. He'd snuck up the back way and locked himself in his apartment. He threw the jacket on the counter and tugged off the tie, throwing it on top of the jacket. Nabbing a beer from the fridge, he jumped over the back of the couch and landed in a sprawl over the cushions. He turned on the TV, scrolled through his Netflix options for thirty seconds, and then turned it off. He was _wired_ . If he was honest with himself, he hadn't felt this _alive_ since...well, since he helped out Kate.

He stood up and set his beer on the coffee table, then jogged upstairs to change into gym shorts and a T-shirt. He reached under his bed, moving a pile of socks out into the open so he wouldn't forget to wash them, and pulled out a small foot locker, filled with his various weapons. Carefully sorted through until he found his arrows, wrapped in cloth, then shut the locker and slid it back in its place. Clint dug into his closet (which wasn't _that_ bad) and found his bow case, along with a target. He set these on the bed, along with his arrows, then grabbed socks from the pile. After a brief search, he found his gym shoes and shoved those on as well. It was late, but he was confident the city lights and his vision would be enough.

He grabbed his gear and jogged back down the stairs, stopped to pick up his beer, and headed out to the roof access. It was one of the things he'd loved about the building. He'd always needed a high place. He carefully set the bow case, arrows, and beer down at the end of the roof closest to the access. Walked as far as he could to the other end and set up the target, making sure it was sturdily in place. He walked back to the starting point, stretching his arms out, his neck, loosened his shoulders. He did note reduced flexibility and reluctantly told himself he was going to have step up the exercise. Even if he was a normal guy - did normal guys get turned on by women concealing weaponry? Question for another day - he'd been in fighting shape for the majority of his life and he didn't want to let that go just yet.

Once he felt loosened up enough, he took a drink of his beer and then got the bow out of its case. It wasn't in too bad of shape, considering he hadn't touched it since playing sidekick. He'd missed the satisfaction of hitting a bullseye, that thunk of the arrow hitting dead center. He strung the bow and tested his draw strength with an arrow nocked. Not easy, but not so difficult that he couldn't do it. He relaxed, not shooting yet. Finished the last of the beer, set the bottle on the ground to take down with him. He set his feet, straightened, drew, and took a deep breath in. He set the target in his mind, and released the arrow as he let the breath out.

He didn't see it hit; didn't hear the wood hitting the target's sweet spot. All he could see was _red_ and there was screaming in his head. He screamed along with it, the bow dropping from his hand as he grabbed his head and fell to his knees. There was blood and a little girl yelling “Daddy!” He shook his head frantically, trying to dislodge the voice. _No no no no no_ that wasn't _right_ he never hit a target in front of kids. The vision split in two - one with a little girl shaking his target and yelling _Wake up, Daddy!_ , and the other with bodyguards barking orders and hauling the man into an armored SUV. Something was pushing on his head, he screamed louder and curled up in the fetal position on the ground. The second vision went away, the pressure increasing until he blacked out.

He could hear someone saying his name over and over. He curled up tighter as the voice got closer. When a hand shook him, he reacted on instinct and grabbed the wrist, temporary immobilization due to surprise. He rolled, ready to use his legs to throw the person, but stopped when he saw it was Kate. He blinked against the light that was coming from the sky. He'd been up here all night? Realizing he still held Kate's wrist, Clint released her and sat up. “Oh my God, Clint, what happened?!”

He looked around, confused, but when he saw his bow on the ground, it came crashing back. Gritting his teeth so he wouldn't scream again, he ground out, “Must have had too much to drink.”

“Since when does drinking give you a nosebleed?!”

Clint realized his upper lip was rather stiff. When he looked down, he could see the top of his shirt was brown with dried blood. Yanking the shirt over his head, he stood and pushed past Kate. “I need a shower.”

“Clint, wait!” He ignored her, and was already inside when she realized he'd left his gear. _That_ shocked her back. Memory problems aside, he'd been an archer for longer than she'd been alive (well, almost) and he wouldn't leave his bow unless something was seriously wrong. She pulled out her phone and hit the app she needed.  “Jarvis, you there?”

“Yes, Ms. Bishop. How may I be of service?”

“Can you show me the footage of last night?”

“One moment.” She almost dropped her phone when the screaming started. She placed a hand over her mouth, horrified at the remainder of the video. Fought the urge to vomit when Clint passed out, blood pouring from his nose.

Shakily, she told Jarvis, “Tony needs to see this. _Only_ Tony. And Bruce. Can you do that?”

He sounded mildly insulted when he answered. “Of course, Ms. Bishop.”

“Sorry, J. I know you can. Just don't let Natasha see it.”

“So noted.”

She clicked to close the app, knowing Tony would be in touch sooner rather than later. Kate grabbed the bow and arrows, figuring the target would be fine where it was. She headed back inside and took it upstairs with her to sit on Clint's bed. Lucky was already there, and she laid down next to him. She studied the ceiling as the water ran in the bathroom, only a few silent tears slipping out. When the water cut off, she wiped her face with her hands, then laced them together over her stomach. She didn't look away from the ceiling - odds were not in her favor regarding Clint and clothing. Sure enough, a moment later she heard the door open and then quickly shut. The door then reopened, and she assumed he was now at least covered with a towel.

“Can't a man get some privacy around here?”

“Nope.” She propped herself on her elbows to look at him. “You left your gear.” She saw the flinch when he realized the weaponry was on his bed. “Are we going to talk about this?”

“Nothing to talk about, Katie-Kate.”

“Really. **Nothing**. Do you think I'm blind? Maybe stupid?”

Clint yanked clothes out of his drawers as he responded. “No. You know I don't.”

“So. Are we going to talk?”

He slammed the drawer shut. “Christ, I said no! It's fine! It's probably stress, since _someone_ keeps reminding me that my restaurant is going to fail! Then how am I going to pay you back? Go back to being a merc? Just kill a few people, hack off another chunk of soul, because hey, Clint Barton is worthless anyway?”

“I have _never_ said that to you-”

“But I'm sure you've thought it! Here Clint, let me clean up your neighborhood! Here Clint, have a place to stay since your neighbors all think you're crazy! Here Clint, have some money to start a restaurant, even though the only thing you're good at is killing people!” He barely managed not to punch the wall. “I can handle my shit, Kate. I'm an adult.”

She had risen off the bed during his tirade. “Are you sure? Because you sound like the twelve year old now! God, I can't imagine being in the thick skull of a Barton!”

He stormed to the bathroom, clothes in hand. “Just get off my back, okay?!” He slammed the door behind him. Kate allowed herself the satisfaction of giving him the finger after the door closed, then stomped downstairs and out of the apartment. Her phone was singing...Foo Fighters?...by the time she hit the kitchen.

Swiping to answer, she put the phone up to her and snapped, “What the hell did you do to my ring tone?”

Tony sighed heavily. “Nirvana? Smells Like Teen Spirit? Anything?”

“I don't have time for this.”

“Make time, Princess. Saw that footage you sent me. Did you get anything out of him?”

This time she was the one refraining from punching the wall. “No,” she ground out.

He made a noise of disappointment. “Bruce and I will add it to the list, but it'd be helpful to know what the hell was happening on his end.”

“I'm aware.”

“Let me guess - you pushed and he pushed back.”

She hissed a breath out between her teeth. “Something like that.”

“Take it from a pro, kid. He didn't mean any of it. Take a night off, go out with your friends - don't you still talk to the Lil Rascals?”

“I don't know what that means-”

“Doesn't matter. Lewis will be in tonight, so you can leave, and I have it on good authority that you'll have a visitor today that will put Legolas back in good spirits.”

She arched a brow. Tony was a notorious gossip, but he was (almost) always right. “So they made up?”

“And out,” he cackled.

She groaned. “Terrible. Just terrible.”

“You love me.”

“Hanging up now.”

“Let me know if he spills the beans about last night! And I mean before and after returning home!”

She laughed as she hung up. Well, at least _that_ had gone according to plan. Natasha must be pleased. Kate continued on her way to the front, pushing the fight out of her mind for now. She did send a group text to America, Billy, Teddy, and Cassie to see who was in town and if they wanted to hang out.

While Kate was talking to Tony, Clint was talking to himself. “Jesus, Barton, way to take your shit out on the only person who's been there for you. Who's literally risked her life for you. Good job. Dumbass. None of her business, but seriously, class act, Barton.”

He yanked his clothes on and jogged downstairs. He made a fresh pot of coffee, taking the time to even find a mug, muttering to himself the whole time. “Maybe I should tell her about what happened on the roof?” The pain behind his left eye had him hissing and pressing the heel of his left hand into it to try and relieve the pressure. “Great, now I'm getting stress headaches? Is this my life now?” He downed his coffee as the pain backed off, slowly. “I need to get to work.” He found the bottle of Tylenol in the drawer, swallowed three with the help of a chug of coffee from the pot, and shoved his feet in his sneakers. Lucky whined at him a little and nosed into his hand until Clint kneeled down to give him a good rub. “I'm okay, boy. I'm sure it's nothing. Well, maybe not nothing, but I don't need to get Katie-Kate even more involved in my mess.” Lucky whined again and licked his face. Clint stood up, and Lucky followed him out of the apartment and down to the restaurant.

Clint stayed in the kitchen, while Lucky went to the dining area. Kate scowled a little when she saw him, but gave him a good scratch between the ears to let him know she wasn't mad at him. She continued setting up for the day, only half listening to Luis’ story about some friend of an ex. She helped seat some of the lunch crowd when they walked in, took drink orders, and then generally made the rounds. She was at the bar when Natasha walked in. She hurriedly delivered her finished drinks, then walked over to her.

Even though she considered Natasha a friend, Kate was still a little intimidated by her, especially in her Natalie cover. Natalie wore designer labels like they were made for her (and for all Kate knew, they could have been) and was very reserved. Kate usually knew where she stood with Natasha, but when she was undercover, Kate erred on the side of caution. She noticed that Natalie didn't seem to be going all out sexy, even after Tony’s implications. Today, she had worn a pair of fitted black trousers with a green silk blouse, sleeveless. Kate wasn't sure where the weapons were on Natasha, but she had no doubt they were present. Actually, it could just be the heels were the weapons. She tried not to fawn over them too obviously.

“Ms. Rushman, what a pleasant surprise!” When she received a smile, she caught her mouth from falling open.

“Ms. Bishop. Mr. Barton was able to speak with me and make his case.” She raised her eyebrows at Kate minutely, who gestured to her.

“I'm so glad to hear it. Let me take you back to the kitchen.”

“Thank you.” As they walked away from the hostess, she continued, “As it were, my employer has quite enjoyed Hawkeye’s these past few weeks, and since Mr. Barton was so sincere in his apology, I didn't want to disrupt his work with attempting to find a new dining experience.”

They were right in front of the main kitchen doors when Kate _looked_ at her. Natasha minutely shook her head. She stopped herself from pouting. She wanted details! Kate did allow herself a small sigh. “As you wish.” She smirked at the reference, as she could practically hear the mental eye roll from the other woman. Kate pushed open the doors, and said loudly as she walked,  “I'm so glad that Clint's apology was acceptable. The man has the manners and attitude of a nine year old.” He glared at her as she continued, “And sometimes the hygiene.” She smiled, overly sweet.

“Kate,” he growled, “can I talk to you for a second?”

“No, I don't think so. I have a business to run.”

“ _Now_!” He snapped, losing his patience.

Natasha was taken aback, and she could see the shock mirrored on Kate’s face. “If you'll excuse me, I have a call to make,” she murmured at them. When she turned, Kate and Clint gaped at her, and then each other. The back was basically one large bow, showing an amount of skin that made Clint's fingers itch to touch.

“I have _got_ to ask her where she gets her clothes,” Kate muttered to herself.

“You absolutely should not!”

She elbowed him, hard. “Oh, I am. ASAP. And you get no say. I'll stay out of your business, and you stay out of mine.”

He rubbed the spot she'd hit, knowing she'd jabbed him harder than she normally did. “Listen, Katie, I'm sorry. I don't know what was wrong with me. I shouldn't have said that stuff to you.”

She sniffed. “No, you shouldn't have. I'm just worried about you. You wouldn't even look at your bow, you had a huge nosebleed, and then you threw stuff in my face. Like, for real, not just being a jerk.”

He sighed and leaned against the prep table. “I know.” He took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don't really want to talk about it,” he held up a finger to stave off the protest, “right now. I have a very sexy redhead in my kitchen, and you know I have a weakness for them.” He smirked at her and winked.

“Gross. Wait. Who else have you dated that's a redhead?”

He opened his mouth to reply, and then closed it, frowning and a line deep between his brows. “I...don't remember.” He looked panicked for a second, and then he slammed a blank mask into place. He shrugged, carelessly. “Doesn't matter. I like this one. So, scoot.”

Her heart broke a little more, seeing him shut down like that. She reminded herself for the millionth time that she was doing all she could. She managed a weak grin. “I repeat. Gross. I'm leaving. But we're having a talk _later_ ,” she said.

He waved her off and she left, stomach churning. Tony was right. Which caused a shudder. She needed a break, for her own mental health. Kate went back to the front to sit at the bar and coordinate her night out.

After Kate left, Clint walked to the back of the kitchen to find Natalie. She was doing something on her phone - texting? Emailing? Candy Crush? - but looked up when he was near. “Hello, Mr. Barton.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?” He drawled. “Well then, hello Ms. Rushman. What can I do for you?”

“One of the breakfast pizzas, please. Medium.”

He walked away to pull out the various ingredients at the prep table, with her watching. She was fascinated, watching his hands punch and pull the dough. His forearms as he shaped it. He nimbly put the pizza together, carried it to the oven, and slid it in. He sidled back to her, standing closer than he had before. “All business today?”

She deliberately checked her watch, then flashed him a grin. “As it so happens, I'm due for about a ten minute break.” She leaned back against the table, enjoying the way his eyes darkened.

He moved to stand in front of her, arms casually against her sides as his hands settled on the table, close to her hips. “Is that so? Well, then, hi Natalie.”

“Hi, Clint.”

“How's your day?” His thumbs were brushing against her now, and she could feel her throat dry up.

“Busy. How are you?”

He leaned a little closer, and gripped her hips now. “Going a little crazy, but it's better now that you're here.”

She licked her lips. “I feel as if my day is improving as well.”

“Kate wants to know where you get your clothes.”

She huffed out a breath. “Why are we talking about Kate?”

“She's a fan of the shirt,” and he trailed one hand up her back, her skin tingling in the wake of his fingers, “as am I.”

“I'm so glad to hear it. It's a particular favorite.”

“I do have a question. This bow? Is it like a real bow?” Clint tugged gently on the end. “Because it makes me think of unwrapping a present.”

Exactly the thing he'd said when she'd first worn it. She threw her head back and laughed. “No! Good Lord, Clint, it's for work.”

He pouted a little, and she kissed him gently. “All better?”

He stuck his lower lip out further. “No.”

She laughed again, though it was muffled by her pulling him down to meet her lips once more. This kiss didn't stay gentle. The hand playing with the bow fisted, and the one around her waist tightened. Natasha dug her hands in his hair, pulling him even closer. Their mouths opened, and it was just as perfect as it always had been. He moved both hands down to cup her ass, and she jumped up. He supported her weight for a moment while they continued the kiss. When she tightened her legs around his waist, he groaned into her mouth. “God, Nat, I missed you.”

Natasha pushed closer to him than she thought possible, her kisses becoming more frenzied. She was breaking through! She just needed a little bit longer - “Hey, boss man. Sorry to interrupt but I got a customer and they were asking me questions about the cheese being from like Gmail?”

She could kill the waiter in less than 10 seconds and be back to Clint in 5. She had even dropped to stand on her own feet to prepare when Clint cleared his throat and stepped in front of her. “Thanks, Luis. That's more of a Kate question.”

“Oh, okay.” He stood there, grinning at them.

“Did you need something else?”

“Oh, your pizza is done.” Luis still didn't move. Natasha was fighting to keep her cover.

“And?”

“And Kate says to tell you that she's going out tonight, so Darcy will be here.”

Clint rubbed his temples. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome, boss!” Still beaming at them, he left.

Clint turned back to Natalie and was ready to have her right there on the prep table - it was baffling him why he was so aroused when she looked prepared to kill, but he figured he wasn't exactly mentally well right now. She hadn't drawn a weapon, but he had the sneaking suspicion that she'd have killed Luis without needing one. He bent down to kiss her, and she slapped a hand on his chest. “The pizza is finished,” she reminded him, “and therefore, my break is ended.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded and moved away to get the peel. “Fair. How about a date?”

Natasha knew every part of Clint, intimately. And she knew exactly what part was prompting a date request. Natalie would appreciate another date (or two, she liked rules, and the third date rule seemed like one she'd honor), but she still drummed her fingers on the table while she pretended to consider it. “What do you have in mind?”

He tossed a careless grin at her. “Dunno. I'll figure it out.”

She wrinkled her nose, and sighed. “I suppose if we're going to be caught making out in your place of business, I can trust you to organize a date. You have my number?”

“Kate will give it to me.” _While squealing like a little girl_ was what they both added to that statement. He had boxed the pizza and was holding it, waiting to pass it to her as she left.

“Well. Then I'll wait to hear from you. Mr. Barton.” Natasha took the box and was walking out when he choked back a laugh. She turned and arched a brow. “Something amuses you?”

“You have flour handprints on your ass. Ms. Rushman.”

She glared at him and left, knowing he was full out laughing now. Natasha tried to make the flour not as noticeable before she got to the main dining area. Dammit, Tony was never going to let her live this down.

 

As Clint and Natasha were becoming reacquainted, across town, Whitney Frost was having a meeting of her own.

“Ms. Frost. Always a pleasure to see you again.”

“Mr. Fisk. I appreciate you taking the time.” She limply shook his hand, though the Kingpin wasn't fooled. She was a formidable ally, despite her play acting to the contrary.

“Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the white plush chair opposite his own, waiting until she sat to do the same. “Could I offer you some refreshment?”

“No, thank you. How is Vanessa? I feel as if I haven't seen her in ages.”

“She's well, thank you. Vanessa has been occupied with the Board.”

“The Met, I believe I heard?”

“Yes, and she's been approached by MOMA as well.”

“How versatile.” Whitney smiled brightly. “Do give her my regards.”

“Of course. I will admit, Whitney, my curiosity was piqued by your inquiry. The Russians are not a group in which you have historically shown an interest.”

She laughed lowly. “No, they are a little, well, rougher in their business. However, my own curiosity was piqued by a recent encounter I had with the Avengers Hawkeye and Black Widow.” She relayed the story of the restaurant meeting.

He leaned forward in the chair. “Fascinating. It's not uncommon for the Widow to use an alias, but to have Hawkeye to have no apparent recollection? Very new.”

“Indeed. I'm curious to know if this is the Russians’ work. You could imagine the various applications.”

“Quite vividly. However, with some regret, I can confirm that this was not their doing. After their encounters with both Hawkeyes, and then Daredevil and myself, their numbers are quite decimated. I own the remnants of their organization, and I assure you, they had nothing of this usefulness.”

Whitney's eyes flashed at the mention of the other Hawkeye. “Has Mr. Bishop spoken to his daughter lately?”

“They remain estranged. I do not believe he would interfere with any...resolutions to your conflict with her.”

She waved that away. “My focus is on the elder Hawkeye’s condition. Disappointing that it was not an easy resolution, but do be a dear and let me know if you receive any information?”

Fisk was quite aware of the line he walked. As allies, they tended to share information. However, they were also rivals in business, so that information sharing only went to a certain point.

Whitney could see the deliberation in the man's head. She let her eyes go full black, and was rewarded with a grimace that the man opposite turned into a smile. “Of course. I'm sure you'll reciprocate?"

She stood, and he followed suit. “Absolutely. Thank you, darling, for your help.”

  
“My pleasure. We'll be in touch.” They shook hands again, Whitney then following one of his guards out of the room. Fisk went and stood by the window, looking out over his city. Whomever had targeted the Avenger would soon find themselves receiving the attention of a very generous benefactor.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate gets her night out, and Clint takes Natasha out on another date - but then runs into some bad people from his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaaaat!? An update!? I know, I know. Real life is a drag, guys. Come yell at me on Tumblr at itsnotokbutwereallright (I'm lame and have no idea how to link it) to encourage me to write! Hope this one was worth the wait.

Kate was _pumped_ . America had agreed to swing into their dimension, Teddy and Billy were in, and Cassie had a night off. She boogied through the rest of her shift, even explaining to Luis why someone was asking about cheese being from GMO free sources. She happily passed the reins to Darcy, who gleefully recounted how Natasha had described to Tony his slow and painful death should he follow through on his plans to have a painting made of her flour covered ass. Kate made Darcy promise she would only call if she was the last Avenger standing. Darcy agreed, then smacked Kate on the ass with a, “Get out of here and have some freaking _fun_ for once.”

Kate hadn't even minded. She'd debated about saying goodbye to Clint, but ultimately decided it was better to just go and try to grab him tomorrow. She'd Ubered to her place, showered, changed, and done her makeup. America popped in just as Kate was picking up her lipstick.

After pressing the non lipstick holding hand to her chest for a moment, she sighed. “I guess I should just be glad you didn't show up while I was doing my eyeliner. I have a hard enough time getting my eyes to match.”

America popped a bubble at her. “Sorry, not sorry, Princess.”

Kate added her lipstick and did a small _pop_ with her mouth. “I'm glad you could make it. Feels like I haven't seen you in months.”

“We saw each other like two weeks ago,” America pointed out.

“That was work. This is fun! How do I look?” She turned a small circle.

America pursed her lips. Kate was, of course, wearing purple. She'd chosen a purple sequined tank top with a triangle cutout in the back, a black mini skirt, and black high heeled booties. “You're going to freeze.” America grinned. “I'd offer to warm you right up.”

“Well, then, I'm ready.” America didn't ask Kate for an evaluation of her appearance. She had a self confidence that Kate envied. She wore her customary red, white, and blue and her classic Converse. America didn't care what other people thought, but she looked damn good in Kate’s opinion.

They took a car to the club they had all agreed to meet, the group greeting each other with excited hugs. They all danced, in various formations, and Kate drank anything that was pushed into her hand by one of her friends. It was nice to be able to let go and enjoy herself. She didn’t have to think about Clint, or Avenging, or what the hell she was doing with her life. It was about tonight.

She and Cassie sent several Snapchats, although Kate refrained from sending to Natasha or Tony, worried about blackmail and screenshots. Darcy also received some very entertaining messages. She had to hide in the back while she laughed until she cried at the video of Cassie drunkenly giving Kate a piggy back ride, only to have them fall down as America shook the camera with laughter. There were pictures of them in a fountain, posing with a police horse, on the steps of MOMA, and one where they were imitating Avenger themed street performers in Times Square.

America gave Kate her phone back as they were waiting in line at a food truck. She enjoyed watching the reaction Snaps she had gotten back, though when she realized she had one from Tony, she hissed, “ _America!”_ and smacked her friend on the arm. America smirked at her.

“Distribution rights, Princess.”

Kate pouted when she was finished, upset that Clint hadn’t responded. She sent texts back to back with his name. When that didn’t work, Kate decided it was best to just call him. America was too busy at first ordering their food to stop her. When she turned around, Kate was already leaving a message. Since Kate ignored her when she did try, she shrugged her shoulders philosophically and waited for the food to be ready. Kate had tears in her lashes when America turned back around.

“Oh, hell. Come on, Princess, it’ll be okay.” America nudged her away from the truck, trying to get back to the meeting spot where she and Teddy had agreed to herd their charges.

“It’s not the same as it used to be. Nothing is! I never see you guys anymore. Everyone is on different teams, or doing stuff with their lives, and I miss you.”

America briefly closed her eyes. She didn’t know who to ask for help with drunk white girls, but America hoped they were listening. “ _Chica_ , we’re growing up. It’s what people do. And just because we don’t see each other as much doesn’t mean we’re not friends. I see you all the time.”

“You do _not_ ,” Kate whined.

“Versions of you,” America amended. “The you of this reality has a big heart, and I love that about you. You just need to take better care of yourself. Stop spending so much time worrying about the wrong Hawkeye.”

Kate sniffled a little, then grinned. “Miss America loves me, huh?”

“Kate,” America warned.

Kate grabbed her anyway, America having the disadvantage of still holding their bowls in her hands, giving her a hug and a smacking kiss on the cheek. “I love you, too.” She let America go and, spotting Cassie, took off running while shouting, “I love you, Cassie!”

America sighed but strolled after her. At least they were having fun.

The next morning, Clint blearily stared at his phone. The little bell? Ghost? Thing showing up in his notifications wasn’t something he was used to seeing. He cautiously clicked on it, and seeing the photos and videos, realized why he had a couple of misspelled texts from Kate. The drunken shenanigans woke him up enough for him to drag himself downstairs and start coffee. After two cups, he noticed his voicemail icon had popped up as well. He slipped in his hearing aids and listened to the message.

"Clint...Clint...America says hi."

  
"I do not. Hang up the phone, Princess."

  
"She said it with her eyes. I'm still mad at you. But I'm not allowed to be mad because you're all messed up right now. Which isn't fair." Heavy sigh. "I'm sorry we fought. I'm just worried about you. You big jerk.  I'm going to find out how to fix you, Clint. Because that's what friends do. They catch each other." Long pause, during which Clint thought she may have forgotten what she was doing. He heard the catch in her voice with the next sentence. "I never thought I would be the one begging you to come back. You're constant. But I need you, Hawkeye. Come back." The message clicked off, with Clint staring, puzzled, at his phone. He didn’t delete the message, just hung up the phone and set it on the counter.

Lucky woofed at him softly, and Clint shook himself. If Kate had been that drunk last night, she probably would be pretty dead to the world right now. Plus, he didn’t think she’d be in any shape to remember what had been said. He took a couple aspirin with the dregs of his coffee to stave off the headache he felt brewing, then headed upstairs to get dressed and take Lucky for his morning walk. He could think of all the devilish things to convince Kate she had said while he was doing so.

Clint had walked Lucky, showered, dressed, consumed more coffee, had the dough made, and was almost finished with sauce before Kate limped in. She had on purple framed sunglasses, her hair was in a bun at the top of her head, and she was in jeans and a bullseye sweatshirt with purple Chuck Taylor high tops. He whistled, Kate covering her ears. She moaned. “Have mercy on the dying.” She cautiously removed her hands.

Clint grinned cheekily at her. “Rough morning? Looked like you had fun last night.”

“As an old person, you should understand waking up feeling like hell.” She half laid down on one of the metal tables, letting the cool numb her pounding head a little.

He considered that for a few seconds. “Definitely not at your best this morning, Katie-Kate. Maybe you shouldn't have stayed up past your bedtime.” Kate's only response was a lifted middle finger. “Let me finish up the sauce and we'll get coffee in you.”

Clint took the grunt as agreement, and finished up his prep work. He may have banged the spoon on the pot harder than normal, but he was a man of simple pleasures. Kate had covered her ears again and had decided standing was too much effort, now sitting on the floor and propped against a table leg. Clint decided to be a mature adult and did not flick her, instead getting her attention with a gentle nudge of his foot against her thigh.

“Come on, Katie, upstairs for the Barton Hangover Remedy.”

He helped haul her to her feet, and whistled for Lucky, making her wince again. The dog trotted in from the dining room, tail wagging, and headed upstairs. Clint followed, with Kate bringing up the rear. “I swear, Hawkeye, I'm never drinking again.”

This was met with a snort, which she chose to ignore. They entered the apartment, and Clint started up the coffee machine again. Kate sprawled on the couch facedown, letting out a slight _oof_ when Lucky climbed on top of her. She very deliberately ignored the banging sounds in the kitchen, though the drumline in her head was doing just fine on its own rhythm. Kate managed to pass out again for a few minutes, but was woken up by Clint shaking her shoulder and ordering Lucky down.

She sat up, and Clint shoved a plate at her. She frowned down at it while he went back to the kitchen, and was still frowning when he came back with coffee and ibuprofen. “What _is_ this?”

“Scrambled eggs with cheese and bacon.”

“Why is the bacon _in_ the eggs?”

“Fry it first, cut it up, then cook the eggs in the pan. Bacon grease. Works every time.” He sat her cup and the pills on the coffee table, then looked pointedly at her. “Trust the old man, girly girl, and eat your breakfast.” Kate sighed but complied. It wasn't bad tasting, and she felt better by the time she finished the plate and had chugged the coffee and medicine.

“I enjoyed your little chat snap stuff from last night.”

She even had the strength back to roll her eyes. “Snapchat.”

He shrugged. “Whatever. Your voicemail was entertaining though.”

Kate decided her dishes needed to be in the sink and hurried to do so. She didn't really remember calling him, much less knowing what she said. Clint followed her into the kitchen area, but decided not to tease her when he saw how nervously she was scrubbing her plate. “Okay, okay, I lied. It was more...confusing than anything else. You asked me to come back?” He noticed her stiffen and narrowed his eyes. “Care to explain?”

Kate closed her eyes and lowered her chin to her chest, bracing her arms against the counter. She didn’t turn around to face him, instead taking a few deep breaths. After what she had seen on the app the other day, Kate didn’t think it was a great idea to push. Plus, he hadn’t exactly reacted well to her trying to find out more information from him...which would give her the perfect deflection. She whirled around and leaned back against the sink, crossing her arms. “Sure, right after you explain about you soaking a shirt in blood.”

His eyes went cold and his voice was low. “I already told you, Kate, nothing to talk about.”

She sneered at him. “You don’t scare me, _Clinton_. I know your tricks. Your superpower of pushing people away isn’t going to work on me.”

Now it was his turn to cross his arms over his chest. “Tell you what. I’ll stop giving you shit about last night if you stop bugging me about the other day.”

They stared at each other for a minute, then simultaneously spat in their right palms and shook on it. It was a sacred ritual. That didn’t stop them from rubbing their hands on their respective pants after the shake was over. Kate moved away from the sink and next to Clint, tilting her head to lay on his shoulder. They stood like that for a minute, then Kate straightened and said, businesslike, “So, I take it from her visit that you and Natalie patched things up?”

She tilted her head and caught a genuine Clint Barton smile. “Yeah, yeah we did. That reminds me, I need her number. I’m s’posed to be taking her on a date.”

Kate snorted. “You. Are planning the date. With Natalie.”

Clint looked offended. “I can do things like that!”

“Right,” she drawled. “And what are your plans for this date?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Something she wouldn’t think of. So no fancy restaurants or plays or the ballet or anything like that.”

Kate shook her head and moved back towards the couch, vaulting over the back and landing solidly. As gross as it looked, the Barton Hangover Remedy worked. She felt great! Clint followed behind her and copied her actions. They both sprawled out and stared at the TV. Finally, she sighed. “I guess you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“Thanks? Can you put her number in my phone?” He waved his phone at her. Letting out a long suffering sigh, she took it, tapped in the number that Natasha had given her as belonging to her cover, and handed it back. Clint stood up and stuffed it in his back pocket. “So, since I made you all better, wanna come help prep and explain the chat snap thing? Why is a ghost telling me I have a picture?”

“Again?! We've been _over_ this,” she whined at him.

He hauled her to her feet. “Come on, I've got work to do.” Lucky followed Clint out the door, and Kate begrudgingly followed.

She explained the various Snapchat filters to Clint, and took a Faceswap that had them both howling with laughter. When he (too innocently) suggested putting it on Instagram #teamhawkeye she realized he'd conned her. Kate didn't even bother to pretend to be mad, she was just happy to be back to their new normal.

The rest of the morning seemed to fly by. The staff picked up on the lack of tension between the owners and, as a result, were more relaxed themselves. Clint had good music on in the kitchen and things were going smoothly. In the lull between lunch and dinner, Clint texted Natalie.

_Free tonight around 4?_

**I can be free. Where should I meet you?**

Clint thought about that. He had kind of wanted it to be a surprise. _My place._

**What do I need to be ready for?**

_Ready to move. No shorts. Nothing too baggy._

**Sounds scandalous. Want to share any details?**

_Nope ;-)_

**See you then :)**

Clint grinned. He was glad he’d thought of this. It had been a while, but it was going to be fun. He went back to work and whistled the rest of his shift. His second cook, Peter, came in to a kitchen that was prepped to feed a small horde of high schoolers. Even Hope had been impressed by the neatness when she came through to start her shift. After running through the specials for the night, Clint jogged upstairs to change.

He surveyed his closet critically, hunting through until he found some form fitting black pants that had him scratching his head for a minute about their origin, as well as an UnderArmor shirt in red. He didn't bother digging through the sock pile for fresh socks or showering. He wouldn't be wearing the socks for long, and he was sure he'd be pretty sweaty by the end of the date. Clint changed quickly and checked his phone, then grabbed his gray hoodie. As he was letting himself out, his phone vibrated from the incoming text.

**Ready and willing.**

Clint smirked as he headed downstairs and zipped up the jacket. He walked through the kitchen, Peter not noticing him while he danced to the music playing through his over the ear headphones as he cooked. Walking out of the kitchen, Clint heard female laughter. The restaurant was mostly empty, and Kate was talking animatedly at the bar. She looked happy - happier than she had looked in a while, actually. He may have teased her about being twelve, but she always had such old eyes. Last night must have been good for her. Watching her laugh again, Clint resolved that he wouldn’t weigh her down with his...whatever was happening to him. Privately, he could admit that the incident with his bow had majorly freaked him out. It was taking a lot of effort to repress, and Clint was a champion at not thinking about things he didn’t want to think about. At least for tonight he had a good distraction. As if sensing him, Natalie turned on the stool and gave a slow smile.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” Natalie said to him as she stood. “I’m rather intrigued.”

“Me too,” Kate put in. “I need as many details as possible, because this is going to go down as an event. Clint Barton organizes date with no help.”

Clint scowled at her. “Don’t be rude, Katie. And don’t stay up past your bedtime.”

Kate bit back her retort at Natasha’s raised eyebrow. She was still mildly afraid of the spy, and Kate had a feeling that making her late for whatever Clint had planned would not end well for her. She settled for a glare and then moved down the bar to start talking to Lola.

Natasha and Clint exited the restaurant, Clint holding the door for her and then turning to the right. After a couple minutes of silent walking, Natasha cleared her throat. “So, am I appropriately dressed?”

Clint turned and looked at her - snug black pants, no zippers that he could see on the pants, which was perfect. His gaze lingered on her legs. Who could blame him? She had great legs and the pants were showing them off. He couldn’t check the top since she had her own jacket zipped over it - a purple hoodie. “Good choice of pants.”

Natasha smiled internally. He’d stared at her a little too long, but she chose not to comment on it. “Glad you approve. Are you going to share what we’re doing yet?”

“Nope. It’s only a few blocks more. Not good with surprises, are you?”

She cut her eyes sideways to look at him, then went back to looking straight ahead. “I like to know what’s coming.”

“Just trust me. It’ll be fun.” He bumped her with his arm, and she smiled softly and returned the gesture. “What did you get up to today? Do you work on Saturdays, too?”

“I’m on call for whenever my boss needs me. I had a majority of the day for myself, though I did have to mediate a disagreement.” Meaning, she’d been in the gym and then had gotten tired of Sam and Bucky bickering and had whacked both of them with her batons.

“Didn’t get the sense you were one for diplomacy.”

She smiled at that, an almost baring of the teeth. “Who says it was settled diplomatically? But, for the record, I can be diplomatic when I want to be. I was with you, wasn’t I?”

Clint didn’t respond, accepting that he had been put in his place. It was perfect timing anyway, since they had reached their destination. “We’re here!” He nodded at the unadorned wooden door to their right, and beat her up the steps to pull it open and hold it for her. Natasha hesitated, scanning the building and the street around them. The building was only four stories, comparable to the ones around them, but the top floor had what appeared to be floor to ceiling windows. She wasn’t at a great angle to see inside of them, though. She rolled her shoulders and reminded herself that, even if Clint didn’t remember his SHIELD training, he’d been a formidable mercenary and he wouldn’t go someplace that would be unnecessarily risky. Taking a breath, she went up the stairs and inside. He followed her and then tugged her hand towards the stairs. Clint took the steps two at a time, clearly excited. They both unzipped their jackets when they reached the top, the four flights counteracting any chill from the walk.

Clint nodded approvingly at her top, a cotton blend workout tank in plain black. Natasha returned the gesture - UnderArmor did wonders for the male form. She appreciated the red and black, taking it as a good sign. She was momentarily distracted from trying to determine their destination, until Clint steered her to a frosted glass door that read, “New York Circus Company.” He put his hand on the doorknob, and she put hers over his to stop him. “Clint,” she asked softly, “are you sure about this?”

His eyes held none of the sadness she’d come to associate with his time in the circus. “Yeah. Found this place when I started staying with Kate. I had some bad memories, you know? Figured I could try and replace them with some good ones. Came here a few times and it reminded me of what made the circus fun. Haven’t been able to come by since we started getting Hawkeye’s off the ground. It’ll be fun. I promise.”

She took her hand off the knob and put it to his cheek. He leaned into the touch, and she brushed her thumb over his face. “Thank you for sharing this with me.” Natasha stood on tiptoe and kissed him gently. “Let’s do it.”

Clint looked at her for another moment, and then pushed open the door. Natasha wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but she was still surprised. The room was open and took up what appeared to be the entire floor. One third of the room had hoops hanging from the ceiling, at various heights from the floor. Another third had a set of silks hanging. The last section of the room, the section that Clint headed for, had what appeared to be a trapeze set up. There were some that were flying low enough to the mats on the floor that even a novice wouldn’t get hurt. There was a net setup for a couple of the higher flying rigs. Clint was greeting what she assumed was a teacher, and beckoned her over. He shed his jacket, and took hers when she did the same. “Natalie, this is Rebecca. She’s one of the instructors here.”

Rebecca smiled at her, and reached out to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, Natalie. Any trapeze experience?”

Natasha shook hands and smiled. “No. I’ve done some silk work, ages ago.”

That made Clint’s eyebrows raise, but he didn’t comment. “You’ll find trapeze work is different than the silks, but if you have the strength for silks, there shouldn’t be any problems getting you flying today. We’ll be starting in about five minutes.”

Clint and Natasha thanked Rebecca, who moved off to greet another set of students that had come in behind them. Clint placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her to where there was a shelving set and a group of other students sitting and talking. They rid themselves of socks and shoes and put them in a cubby, along with their jackets. Natasha followed Clint's lead and did some light stretching.

After the five minutes, Rebecca had the students head to their respective areas and instructors. The trapeze group was six people, though Clint and Natasha were the only couple. Rebecca ran them through various safety tips and then reviewed the grips for the bars. She set them up on the mats to practice. Rebecca gestured to Clint to assist Natasha while she corrected the rest of the members.

Clint wrapped his hands around hers on the bar while he stood behind her. “Silk work, huh? You're full of surprises.”

Natasha looked back at him, casting her gaze up through her lashes. “There's a lot you don't know about me.” She focused back on the bar.

He drew his hands up her arms and settled them on her shoulders. “I think that's a fair statement for both of us. I know enough.” His hands moved to her hips under the guise of checking body alignment, though they both knew her posture was perfect. “I know that you can take care of yourself, and others. I know you can be diplomatic when you want to be. I know you speak French, Russian, and that you can sign. I know you've got a sweet tooth. And I know when I'm with you, I feel alive.” To himself, he added, _I know you're better than me, but I don't want to let you go._

Natasha bit her lip. She had a part to play. Her voice was husky when she responded, “Big talk for two dates.” This time, when she looked at him, the grin was sassy and the eyes mischievous. Then she pushed off the ground to move the trapeze, kicked her legs up to hook around the bar, and arched her back to look at him and blow a kiss his direction. Clint laughed and shook his head.

The class was an hour. The various attendees took turns practicing catches and releases, then moved up to the net for more of the same. Clint was in the anchor spot, catching as the less experienced released and then grasped his wrists. At the end of class, he showed off a few tricks and Rebecca provided some feedback. Natasha was offered a chance on the silks, but she politely declined. She did pick up a class schedule after they had redressed and were on their way out, folding it up and sticking it in her hoodie pocket.

When they reached the street level, Clint turned right instead of the left needed to go back to his place. “I'm starving. I know this great Thai place a couple blocks up. Interested?”

“Sounds delicious.”

Clint took a turn in an alley, presumably for a shortcut. When they were halfway, Natasha realized there was a group of six men in tracksuits blocking the exit. Clint had stiffened, meaning he saw them as well. Natasha automatically moved slightly further away to give them both room to maneuver. However, the couple continued walking.

“Hey, bro. Is pretty lady. You and pretty lady have good time, get sweaty?” The apparent leader asked in a thick Russian accent, and the others obligingly laughed.

“Don't want any trouble, boys. Just trying to get some dinner.”

The group stepped closer, and Clint stopped. Natasha followed suit. “See, is problem, bro. We have trouble with you, Clint Barton.”

Clint groaned. “Seriously, bro? I kicked your little gang's ass before, you think I won't do it again?”

The leader shrugged carelessly. “Is more of us than you, bro. Big price on bro’s head. Pretty lady brings bonus.” He winked at her and then made kissing noises with his mouth. “You leave lady here, bro, we forget we see you, bro.”

Before Clint could say anything, Natasha rolled her eyes and spat at them in Russian, “ **You think a woman can't kick your ass? What kind of a Russian are you?”**

The man responded, “ **We will let you go, since you are far from home, little one. You are not the one we want.”**

**“It is you who should walk away. You don't know who you're dealing with.”**

The Russian spit at the ground. “ **I know who he is.”**

She smiled, coolly. “ **I was talking about me.”**

**“Big, brave fighter? Little bird that does the kickboxing?”** He snorted. “ **Walk away now, and you will fight another day.”**

Natasha bared her teeth in a feral grin and didn't bother to reply, balancing her stance to be ready. Clint didn't know what had been said, but he recognized when it was time to fight. He also stood ready next to Natalie.

The poorly dressed gang rushed them. Clint naturally went to the left, Natalie not hesitating as she went right. All he saw was a blur of red as she used the first thug’s momentum to hurl herself over him and at the other two. Then he had to focus on his own three.

He punched and kicked, taking a few hits to his ribs that had him gritting his teeth and fighting that much more ferociously. Moves that he thought he'd forgotten came back to him in a flash. It was luck that he didn't have a weapon, otherwise the fight would have been shorter and bloodier. Clint felt himself detach and watch as his body almost went on auto pilot. Part of him was trying to remind him of who he was now, he wasn't Hawkeye anymore. The rest of him could only hear a vague humming noise.

Natasha wanted to keep an eye on Clint since she thought his civilian persona wouldn't be ready for a brawl, but a quick look over her shoulder showed him moving as fast as he ever had. If not faster. She didn't like the look in his eyes, but was distracted by a punch to her kidney. Natasha then had the satisfaction in slamming one of the three against the brick, grinning smugly when he went down. It allowed one of the other two to hold her in a bear hug from behind. Natasha ran up the wall, flipping herself onto the shoulders of the dumbass, and punching him in the head until he also crumpled.

Clint saw Natalie take down two of her attackers in rapid succession, and had to focus intently to not drop his guard while he drooled. Seriously, he had no idea that he'd liked watching badass women before. Well, this badass woman who apparently knew an obscene amount of martial arts. He knocked out one of his opponents, though the second and third were only momentarily stunned before advancing again. “Don't look so surprised, you assholes!”

Clint bumped into someone behind him, which he recognized almost instantly as Natalie. They both turned, and Clint snatched a kiss as she laughed, and then they traded opponents.

Natasha was pleasantly surprised by the kiss - her Hawk had always liked that move when they fought together in close quarters. It made her smile, which seemed to irritate Clint's former targets. They both lunged for her, and she happily kicked them both in the face, hearing a very satisfying crunch. Clint had found a burst of energy, and delivered a flurry of punches to the last remaining man that had him falling to the ground.

Clint and Natasha stood over him, both panting from the fast combat. Clint crouched down and asked, “What are you fuck wits  even trying to do? We beat the shit out of you once, you think we won't do it again?”

The (former) leader spat in his face. Clint stood up, and then kicked him in the ribs. _That_ was not a pleasant surprise. Especially when he kicked the man twice more. Natasha frowned. This was not a Clint Barton she knew. She put a hand on his arm and made her breath more rapid. “Clint, we need to go,” she said, putting an urgent tone in her voice.

When he didn't respond, she shook him a little. This time, he looked at her, but she didn't think he was seeing her. She'd seen the face he wore during all sorts of skirmishes, and this was not the face of the man she knew and loved.  This was the look of a man clinging tenuously to his humanity. There was a darkness in his eyes that she'd only seen a shadow of previously. “Clint?”

Clint felt his soul snap back into place. He thought, once he went straight, that he'd never go to that place inside himself again. That he had, and so easily, made him want to scream. Natalie looked frightened. Who could blame her? Being able to defend yourself was one thing, but to see a man ready and willing to kill? He'd been kidding himself to think a man with his bloody history could bury it and move on. Clint selfishly wanted to cling to the illusion a little longer, so forced everything to the back of his mind. “You okay?”

“I'm fine. Let's go to your place and get cleaned up.”

The Russian groaned on the ground, bringing their attention back to the ground. “What do we do about him?”

Now it was Natasha’s turn to crouch down. “ **I'm going to let you go, little man. But if I catch you in my web again, you will not get away for a long, long time. Leave the man alone, or the Black Widow will come to play.”**

The leader paled at her name and mustered several **Da** before she stood up and kicked him in the head to knock him out. Clint pulled her into a rough and passionate kiss.

After a few moments, she pulled back and they touched foreheads. Clint willed himself to stay in the moment. Don’t look back. Don't look where you've been, look to where you are going. His next kiss was gentler, but no less urgent. He sighed and pulled himself back. “You're too good for me,” he murmured. She would have protested, but he took her hand and linked their fingers together. “Let's get cleaned up.” They left, all thoughts of dinner forgotten, each lost in their own worries.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the second date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm sorry about the delay in posting. Good news is, I'm over halfway in my MBA - yay! It means posting won't be frequent, but I promise I'm not giving up. I have a full outline ready to go. Feel free to come scream at me on Tumblr!

They made it mostly back to his place before Clint’s ribs started feeling like they were on fire. He grit his teeth and focused on shorter breaths without hyperventilating. The hand not holding Natalie’s slid up to try and provide a modicum of support. 

The movement didn't go unnoticed by Natasha, who saw out of the corner of her eye but didn't comment. They didn't have much farther to go, and she was pretty sure she could get him upstairs without being discovered. When they reached the building, she was grateful that it was too cool for patio diners. Natasha felt Clint hesitate at the front steps, and tugged his hand to the alley and the side access door. 

The door was unlocked, which she would lecture about later. Clint may still be able to fight, but there was no reason to set himself up for an ambush. She instinctively checked to be sure the cook wasn't paying attention, then ushered Clint towards the steps. It was slow going, with Clint cradling his ribs. Once they finally reached the top, she dug in his pockets for his keys, frowning when there was no suggestive comment in response. Natasha opened the door and guided Clint to the couch. 

Once he was settled and breathing through his teeth, she went to the kitchen and checked the cabinet above the refrigerator. Natasha frowned again when the alcohol she'd hoped to find wasn't there. Muttering in Russian to herself, Natasha yanked open the freezer door and grabbed an ice pack, slammed it shut, then wrenched open the fridge and pulled out a beer. 

Stalking back to the living room, she twisted the top off the beer and set it on the coffee table. Natasha tapped Clint on the knee and held out the ice pack when he squinted one eye open. He hissed out a breath and closed his eye when he held it to his ribs, but seemed inclined to stay where he was. She looked him over critically, then huffed out a breath and strode off, climbing the stairs. God only knew where the first aid kit was, but her best bet was the bathroom. 

Clint heard Natalie heading upstairs and experimentally opened one eye, then two. He wasn't sure why she was going upstairs, but he assumed to look for some kind of bandages. Clint sat back for a few minutes, letting the ice numb him a little. He watched the stairs, and saw that Natalie had found a whole kit. She hauled it down the steps, and Clint idly wondered if he should feel bad for not cleaning up earlier. He wasn't exactly going to show her around, but he guessed she was making herself comfortable. 

Clint lifted his fingers at her. “Hey,” he said. 

Natasha would not roll her eyes, she would not roll her eyes, “Hey? How you feeling, shining armor?”

Clint winced at the tone. “Not the best.” His eyes lit on the beer she'd left out before and he smiled hopefully at her. 

She handed him the beer with a small sound of disgust. “You don't even have any decent liquor in the place. Not to be a cliché, but I like a good vodka. It's also good for instant pain relief.” 

Clint moved to shrug, but checked the motion with a sharp intake of breath. He took a large drink from the bottle, then responded, “Haven't needed to worry about anything that needs more than an ibuprofen for a while.” He offered the beer back to her. 

Natasha put the first aid kit and bottle on the coffee table, then stood with her hands on her hips. “Shirt off.” Clint blinked at her. “Do you need help?”

“No,” he said slowly. “This just isn't exactly how I imagined it. Not that I've imagined it. Because that would be weird, right? Except this doesn't feel weird. I'll shut up now.”

Natasha wanted to kiss him. She'd lost count of how many times they'd had to break out the first aid around the globe, but it had become a routine. She'd take his babbling as a good sign. Natasha moved the first aid kit to the couch, then stood so that her legs were straddling his. “Why, Mr. Barton, you don't take all the girls out for a fight and come back to play doctor?”

Clint felt the blood leave his head. He was pretty sure that's where the dizzy feeling came from. When Natalie leaned forward to play with the hem of his shirt, he set the ice pack to the side and helped her peel it off of him. It made him breathless, but that was his ribs being jarred. When she sucked in air through her teeth, he knew it must already look pretty bad. Her hands were cool and gentle as she felt along his ribcage. Then she sat on his lap, knees straddling his thighs, and his mind went blank. She continued to feel his ribs, then muttered something. “What?” There was a buzzing noise, but it receded when he shook his head.

“I said, it feels like they're just bruised.” She looked concerned. “Are your ears okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm good.”

Natalie placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed him gently. His hands slid up to her waist, gripping her hips tightly. The kiss deepened. Clint couldn't understand how it could feel so  _ right  _ to be kissing her, but he didn't want to stop. They had their hands all over each other, Natalie carefully avoiding his ribs, and Clint ignoring the buzzing in his head. The buzzing that grew louder when Natalie sat up straight to peel off her own shirt. 

Natasha had decided that the three date rule was the stupidest idea she'd ever heard. She'd forgotten how perfectly they fit together. This could compromise her, but God, she  _ missed _ him. She missed knowing someone, and having them know her, so completely that they communicated with the smallest of gestures. She missed the casual intimacy that came with being partners for as long as they had been. She missed the man that so few got to see. 

So, when Natasha took off her top and Clint promptly passed out, she was utterly unimpressed. Sighing heavily, she put her shirt back on and slid off Clint's lap. Natasha applied ointment to Clint's split knuckles, then bandaged her own hands. She packed the first aid kit back up, put it away, and went back to the couch. With a sad smile, she managed to lie Clint down. Natasha combed her fingers through his hair once, then knelt and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead. She hastily wrote a note that she set on top of the coffee pot, then left, locking the knob before pulling the door shut softly behind her. 

As she left, she avoided the restaurant and kitchen, then blended into the darkness to walk home. Natasha wanted some time alone in her rooms and enabled Jarvis’ privacy protocols as soon as she was in the elevator that went to the Avenger floors. She played classical music, brewed herself some tea, and meditated. 

Nothing worked. She couldn't calm down enough to sleep. Grumbling to herself, Natasha changed into fresh workout gear and headed to the communal gym. Ballet wouldn't do it tonight. She needed hard rock and punching. Maybe kicking, with the bandaged hands, though she'd frequently fought through worse. When she entered, Maria was pounding out miles on a treadmill, only nodding in greeting. Natasha returned the nod, then went to the sparring area and activated a droid. She went several rounds before turning it off, her body tired and her mind slightly more centered.

Steve was seated in the bleachers with an unopened bottle of water. He tossed it to her when she arched a brow at him, waiting for her to take a drink before he spoke. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier.” Natasha took another drink, not responding. “You know it doesn't. Seeing someone that's important to you, not remembering you,” Steve cleared his throat and continued, “it's the worst kind of torture. There's no information you can give to make the pain stop.”

Natasha sighed softly. “The worst part is not being able to fix it.” She smiled crookedly. “I was good at breaking things, and becoming an Avenger meant I could right the wrongs. This...makes me feel helpless. If Clint doesn't remember me, or SHIELD, or,”  _ us  _ she bit back, “any of the good he did, does that cancel it out? Is it just more red in the ledger?”

Steve stood, though he didn't reach for her. “You are the least helpless person I've ever met. Other than Peggy,” he amended, making her hum in amusement. “And after everything we've been through, do you really think your ledger still has red? You've saved the world, Nat, including your friends. That's worth more than anything the Red Room made you.”

She took a drink, blotting her neck with a towel. Steve knew she was trying to look casual for Maria. Her body language was always deliberate, even relaxation a choice. Her words, though, belied the picture she was painting. “I owe him a debt. I'll always owe him.”

Steve shook his head at her, putting his hands on his hips. “You know he hates when you talk like that.”

“Still true, even if he doesn't like to hear it.” Steve's heart broke a little for his friend, seeing how much pressure she was under. Granted, it was pressure from herself, but who knew better than Steve Rogers (outside of the other Avengers) what it meant to carry the weight of your world? They'd each had to make tough decisions for the ones they loved. Natasha was no exception. She just hated being forced to choose; the Black Widow wanted everything to happen in her own timetable, and her life right now wasn't working out that way.

“Do you want to back off? Between Maria and I, we could find something for you to do out of New York. Give you some time to clear your head. Think about something else.”

Natasha’s version of a scowl was a minute drawing together of her eyebrows, and her tone cool. “I'm fine where I am. Thanks for the concern.” Steve looked a little like a kicked puppy. “Don't pull that with me, Rogers. I seem to recall this exact conversation when you were looking for Bucky.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “Which means you could trust my judgement on this, Romanoff.”

Natasha bit back the immediate scathing reply; chose to smile and let out a laugh rather than tearing apart the man in front of her. “I forgot how much older and wiser you were than me,” she teased. Steve frowned at her, not as easily distracted as she'd anticipated, when they were interrupted by Steve getting shot in the arm with a Nerf dart. Natasha could have kissed Darcy in that moment. 

The spunky brunette swaggered over, pretending to blow the smoke off her gun. Her boyfriend, hair in a man bun, ambled behind her. “I just saved your life, Steve. I accept your offer of lifelong servitude,” Darcy said, waving a hand as though she were a queen speaking to a peasant.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I'm sure my life wasn't in danger, Darcy.”

“We'll never know,” Natasha said drily. She glanced at the Nerf rifle held by James. “Time to settle another argument?”

Darcy glared at her boyfriend. “He thinks that I shouldn’t be working at Hawkeye’s anymore. Says with the crap they are hearing about a downed Avenger, someone is going to figure out where Clint is, and it’s going to be dangerous.”

James gave a glare of his own. “You should listen to me, Darcy. I’ve seen the scans. The building isn’t secure.”

“There’s Jarvis and a Tony designed security system. Kate’s there more often than not. And I’m not exactly defenseless.”

James crossed his arms over his chest, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the bright orange barrel of the children’s toy. “Training from Natalia and myself is not on the same level as what could come after Clint.”

Darcy walked up to him and poked him in the chest with the barrel of her gun. “I. Will. Be. Fine.” She punctuated each word with another poke. “And I’ll prove it by kicking your ass on the range.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I'm not sure this is what Sam had in mind when he suggested alternative conflict resolution.”

James turned to him and shrugged, though his eyes held a hint of mischief. “Didn't stop it, did he? And it  _ works _ on many levels.” He winked at Darcy suggestively, who responded by turning to face Natasha.

“What are you doing down here, anyway?” Without looking, she raised her gun and shot James with a dart. 

Natasha shrugged. “Just getting in a workout before bed.”

“Okay. Wanna go to lunch tomorrow? If I've recovered from the monumental amount of ass I'm about to kick.”

Natasha smiled. “I'd love to.”

“Cool. I'll text you.” Darcy looked at James, who was shooting Steve with darts as Steve tried to smack them out of the air. “Let's go, Barnes. You're going to give me a piggyback ride of victory.”

“Haven't won yet, Darce.” 

“But I will,” she sing songed. They continued to the range, trash talking. Steve turned to talk to Natasha again, but she was gone. He sighed, then strode out of the gym. One day he'd figure out how she did that. 

Natasha may have made her escape from good intentions, but Clint wasn't so lucky. He woke up on his couch, opening his eyes to the sight of Kate standing over him, coffee cup in hand. When he grunted at her, she held the cup higher. “Mine.” He sat up, the blanket falling into his lap. Clint managed to stifle the scream into a manly noise of discontent as his ribs protested his movement. 

Kate's eyebrow ticked up at the whine, but she stayed silent. She'd found Clint in worse states. As he breathed deeply, she took a noisy slurp of coffee. When Clint shot her a dirty look, Kate smiled innocently and moved to the kitchen. The deep inhales of breath told her that Clint was following. She decided to take pity on him, and went ahead and poured a second mug. Kate slapped his hand when it appeared in her peripheral and attempted to grab the pot from the warmer. The second mug was taken, and Kate turned and faced him while leaning against the counter. 

“Is this a case of, ‘you should see the other guy’?” 

Clint had taken a large drink of coffee, and was going “Ow ow ow, hot.” Kate rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers at him. He looked at her, all Hawkeye stone faced and clearly unimpressed, but she just signed  _ get on with it _ . “Yeah, you could say that. Stupid tracksuits showed up as Natalie and I were heading to get food. Beat the hell out of ‘em. It was kind of hot…” He trailed off and his face made her think he was remembering. Which, ew.

Then again, she'd seen Natasha in action. It  _ was _ pretty hot. 

_ Focus, Bishop!  _ Clearing her throat, Kate waited for Clint to look at her again. “She left you a note.”

“What? Where?”

“On top of the coffee pot.” Clint made a gimme gesture with his free hand while chugging the rest of his coffee. Kate looked to the heavens for patience before slapping the note into his palm. 

“Dear Kate: please take care of Clint this morning. Ibuprofen and water.” Kate shook the bottle at him. “Dear Clint: take the medicine. Let me know when you're healed up and ready for date number three. Winky face.”

“It says winky face?”

“What? No! She drew an actual winky face!” Kate simply shook the ibuprofen at him again in response, then tossed it at him. He caught it, opened it up, shook four into his hand, then put those in his mouth. He took a drink of water straight from the faucet and swallowed. Kate stared at him while he replaced the lid. “What? I didn't want to get a glass dirty!” 

Kate shook her head and refilled her coffee cup. “I thought the tracksuits were done. Destroyed. Decimated. Odd for them to show up after all this time.”

Clint shrugged. “Only been a few months. Guess they could be throwing tracksuits onto random gang members as a form of recruitment.” He filled up his cup. 

Kate frowned. It had been substantially longer than he thought, but even still. “There's something weird going on. I don't like it.” She took a sip of her coffee, two lines between her brows. 

Clint drank deeply again, emptying half of his cup in big swallows. “Don't know what to tell you, girly girl. I'm going back to bed.”

“That's it? That's all you've got? Don't you want to know why they're back?”

Clint moved to shrug, then stopped himself with a wince. “I'm retired, Kate. I wanted to be a civilian. I was tired of fighting.”

Kate set down her coffee so she could pull at her hair with both hands. “I'm not asking you to fight, Clint. I'm asking you to care. This could be important!”

Clint drained his cup, then set it in the sink. “You really think it's that bad?”

“I don't know! But it could be.”

He sighed. “Tell you what. I’ll start getting my focus back, get back in shape. The restaurant is my first priority. But I can make sure I’m not going to be a liability  _ if  _ you find something. I think it’s a big  _ if _ , but I’ve got your back, Kate. Always.”

She surprised him with a hug. He awkwardly patted her on the back until she let go. “Thanks, Hawkeye.”

“Anytime, Hawkeye. Seriously, though, I’m going back to bed. I feel like hell. You okay to do the prep?”

“I’ll call in some help. I’ll bribe Peter to come in this morning, but you’ll have to take night shift instead.”

He headed out, waving his acknowledgement. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. Just wake me up, okay? I’ll leave an aid in.”

“Okay. Training starts tomorrow,” Kate called up to him as he trudged up the stairs to his bed. She laughed to herself as he flipped her the bird, then pulled out her phone as she left to rouse her assistant chef. 

Natasha took comfort in her friends, the little that she allowed herself. Clint did the same. The Russian mobsters had managed to hoist their comrades up and get to a safe house. The next morning, though, they weren’t so lucky as to say they woke amongst friends. The leader of the group had been roughly shaken awake with muttered Russian curses and the information that the boss wanted to see him. He’d thrown a careless punch in response, but his aim was off from his head still ringing after his encounter with the Widow. The bro that had woken him scurried away. Yuri knew too many of his brothers that had not returned from talks with the new head of their organization, but it was stupider to avoid the man than to go when called. Grumbling to himself, he cleaned up and went to the car that was waiting outside. Climbing inside, he nodded politely at the two men sitting inside. The car pulled away from the curb, and they drove a couple blocks before the younger man in glasses spoke to him.

“So, Yuri, you've been with the family how many years now?”

“Ten years.”

“A rather long time. Are you doing well with the transition?”

Yuri glanced nervously at the other man, large and bald, sitting calmly in his tailored suit. A bead of sweat trickled down his face, but he made no gesture to wipe it away. Swallowing loudly, Yuri looked at the first man and responded, “Yes, we are very grateful to new employer.”

The man in glasses smiled, though the gesture didn't reach his eyes. “That's excellent to hear. As a gesture of good faith, why don't you tell us about last night?”

Yuri swallowed hard again. He stuttered out the tale, then stared at the floor and clenched his fists as he calmed himself from the lingering rage. When he felt that he was more himself, he looked up. Both men were staring at him. It was Wilson Fisk who spoke first. “Yuri, you have left out a vital detail in your recounting.” He delicately straightened the wrists on his suit. “Who instructed you to attack Clint Barton?”

Yuri paled. “It was just a job, bro.” Wesley shot a warning glare at him, and he amended the statement. “Sir. Some bro come to shop, say he want bro ass kicked. Gave us picture. We know bro in picture, we say yes. Bro gave us money and go away.”

Fisk took a deep breath, looking out the window as he played with his cufflinks. Wesley calmly asked, “Did this man give a name?”

“No. Didn't care when we saw picture. Bro had money.”

Wesley exhaled through his nose. “What did the man look like?”

“Weird bro, bro. Had robot eye. He wore shades, but could see glow.”

Wesley glanced at his boss, who moved his chin a fraction but didn't change his gaze. Wesley looked back at Yuri and smiled again. “Thank you for your cooperation.” The car pulled up the curb and stopped. The lock popped, and the door was opened from the outside. “We'll be in touch.” As Yuri moved to exit, Wesley said, “No more jobs involving superheroes without permission, Yuri. Spread the word.”

Yuri nodded. If it meant not doing another car ride like that, he'd do whatever they asked. He tried not to let his fear show as he strutted into the apartment building, ruining the effect by looking back over his shoulder every few steps.

As the car pulled away, Wesley pulled out a phone from the breast pocket of his suit. “Would you like to make a call, sir?”

Wilson sneered and replied, “He's a troublemaker, but no longer in my employ.  Frost can't possibly link this to me. While this reeks of his work, I'm not certain he has the science to accomplish what has transpired.”

Wesley hummed in thought. “Perhaps you could persuade him to reach out to her? She won't like it if you don't share, but she doesn't argue with results. And, if he's not the one, no harm done.”

Fisk thought this over for a moment, then nodded his agreement. “Make the call.”

Wesley pressed a few buttons on the screen, waiting patiently while the line rang. The man on the other end could not be heard, but Wesley responded, “No, we don't have any jobs for your skill set right now. Though I do know of someone who is looking for a man of your caliber. I'll have the information sent to you.” He clicked off and put the phone back in his pocket.

“Thank you, Wesley. It's a comfort to me that I always have you there.”

“Of course, Mr. Fisk.” They continued their drive, talking of other matters, while the employee in the front passenger seat sent a two word text.

The text alert sounded on the man's phone. He glanced at it, then raised his eyebrows in surprise. Checking the time, he gathered his things and left his safe house. Anyone who was anyone knew where to go from here. And he'd at least worked with enough in the circle to get him to the door. From what he'd been told, the security was low, the owner confident enough to not worry about systems and rely more on people.

He knew just how easily people could be manipulated.

A ball cap and sunglasses kept him camouflaged with other pedestrians. He entered the lobby of the building he was interested in, and drew out his weapon of choice, keeping it hidden by his side. As he pushed the button for the elevator, a man in a dark suit tapped him on the shoulder. “Sir, I need to see your identification.”

“Of course.” He turned and raised the weapon, flipping the switch to turn it on. The suited man froze. “If you'd be so kind as to send me to the penthouse. I'm expected.”

“Yes, sir,” the man droned. He swiped a badge, then stopped off. “Have a nice visit.”

He rode in silence, briefly checking his weapons and removing the hat and glasses. The elevator stopped, the doors opening with a little chime. 

“Marco, I didn't approve anyone coming up, what are you doing?” a woman's voice called from the other room. He stepped off the elevator, the doors closing behind him. She strode into the room, head held high and eyes like obsidian, though stopped short when she saw he wasn't who she expected.

“Hello, Ms. Frost. I heard you were looking for me.”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally learn who our villain is! Clint wants to Netflix and chill...though I think he's doing it wrong. And some more Natasha POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. At least, I thought I did. Then I ended it with this ridiculous word count, which is over double what I thought I would have. Hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> ***Thanks to agentsofpuppies as always!   
> ***Bonus points if you catch the Friends reference!

Whitney narrowed her eyes as the visitor shed his coat. “Make yourself at home.”

The man smiled at her, showing just a few too many teeth for it to be called friendly. “I do appreciate you not shooting first, per se, and asking questions later.”

Dark lines showed in her face, and Whitney hissed at him, “You'll tell me who you are very soon, or I'll rip it out of you.”

He used his cybernetic eye to scan the penthouse, confirming they were alone. “My name, Ms. Frost, is William Cross.” Here he paused, as if waiting for recognition. When none came, he sighed internally. “Crossfire.”

She frowned, the black absorbing into her skin. “You're one of Fisk’s.”

He refrained from sneering, but only just. “That partnership ended some time ago. I'm my own man now. Though I have a… mutually beneficial relationship with a large firm.”

“And you have come here why?”

“It was relayed that you may be looking for a man with skills such as mine.”

Whitney stared at him thoughtfully, then her eyes faded into their normal blue. She smiled, then beckoned at him to move forward, striding out of the foyer as he followed. They moved into what he supposed was a sitting room. The floors were a gleaming marble, the walls a dusky pink with white crown molding. A plush settee, upholstered in red, sat in the center of the room, situated in such a way that the windows would illuminate whomever rested there. Small black leather ottomans were stationed near the settee, though set low enough that it was clear who ruled. 

Whitney arranged herself on the settee, Cross sitting himself on an ottoman, working to maintain an air of dignity. She smiled politely at him, resting her hands in her lap. “Please, Mr. Cross, do tell me more.”

“I am affiliated now with Advanced Idea Mechanics. I, myself, am a bit of a scientist, in addition to being a top marksman. Some may say the best.” 

Whitney lifted a brow, looking amused. “I believe that honor goes to Hawkeye.” She laughed, trying not to sound bitter. “Excuse me, Hawkeyes.”

Looking smug, Cross responded, “I've already taken care of one Hawkeye. I'm sure the younger won't be a problem.”

_ You'd be surprised _ , thought the woman known as Madame Masque. Then, her eyebrows drew together. She smoothed them out, conscious of wrinkles. “I'm sorry,  _ you _ were the one responsible?” 

“Yes. A fascinating chemical compound. It targets the neurological connections related to memories. I also requested some nasty side effects to provide negative reinforcement if he attempted to reforge certain pathways.”

She hummed, trying to sound unimpressed. “It hasn't prevented one Black Widow from trying to make his acquaintance.”

He sighed. “Yes, I'd heard about that. I paid some friends to make a visit. Mr. Barton was quite vicious. None of the compunctions from SHIELD, which indicates success of my compound. However, the side effects weren't quite as nasty as I anticipated if he's still seeing her. I foresee having to step in, in a more… forceful manner.”

Her eyes glittering, Whitney leaned forward. “Yes, let's discuss. I'd be happy to assist in any fashion. And I happen to know the perfect place to target him and his associate. It seems Mr. Barton has opened a quaint restaurant. He's apparently the cook, in addition to being the owner. My men paid a visit or two, undercover as it were, and didn't detect any excess security. They did note that the other Hawkeye is frequently in place as well, though it appears she has taken on the elder Hawkeye’s role with the Avengers, and will leave should they be called out.”

Cross drummed his fingers on his knees. “Interesting.” He cleared his throat. “Not to be indelicate, but what will the information on the restaurant cost me?”

Whitney let out a high laugh. “Why, nothing, Mr. Cross. Consider it an investment. Take out Hawkeye, and I'd be rather interested in partnering with you in the future.”

William smiled and bowed a little from the waist. “Your generosity is appreciated. I'm certain we can accomplish our goals together.”

Whitney stood, Cross following suit. She started leading him back the way they had come, speaking to him as they walked. “Leave your number at the front desk, and you'll receive the information shortly. I'd prefer that the younger Hawkeye not be present during your plans, as I have intentions of my own towards her.”

“I'm sure I can accommodate that, Ms. Frost.” They stepped into the foyer, Cross pushing the button to open the elevator doors. “Thank you for your time.”

“Of course.” The smile sharpened, showing more teeth as her eyes bled to black. “Show your face here uninvited again, and you won't like the consequences. Do we understand each other?”

Cross paled just a touch. “Perfectly.”

The eyes went back to normal, her smile returned to one of polite interest. “Excellent. Have a wonderful day.”

The doors slid closed. Cross wanted to sag in relief, but he maintained his composure, leaving his information at the desk as instructed before heading towards his base. He would have some planning to do.

Clint slept most of the day, Kate rousing him as promised. He was tender and moving slowly. Peter took pity on him and stayed for the dinner rush. Clint didn't hear from Natalie, but he was too busy to reach out to her himself. At some point, Darcy came back and pushed a frightening green concoction at him and bullied him into drinking it.

“But it's so  _ green. _ ”

“It's a natural green. Like vegetables. Just drink it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes, Clinton.”

“I am a grown ass man. You can't tell me what to do, and I'm not drinking this.”

“You're just being a baby. A big, soft, weak baby.”

Clint narrowed his eyes at her. “I know what you're doing. It's not going to work.”

Darcy smirked at him. “If you don't drink this, I'll just escalate. You'll be begging me to stop.” Darcy raked her eyes over him. “You're not as fit as you used to be, so I'm not sure you'll have the…stamina…to keep up with me. But I'm willing to try if you are,” she gave him a saucy wink.

“There's nothing wrong with my stamina,” Clint protested, indignant. “And how do you know what I used to look like?”

Darcy shrugged. “Kate showed me a picture. A diet of pizza really didn't help those abs. You probably couldn't do that cool handstand anymore.”

Clint narrowed his eyes and growled, “Give me the damn drink!” He snatched it out of her hand and chugged it, then glared at her as he shoved the glass in her direction. “I'm so tired of you and Kate calling me fat.”

She batted her eyelashes at him. “Don't worry, darling, you're still on my freebie list.” She blew him a kiss and then sashayed out of the kitchen. 

“What does that even  _ mean _ ?!” Clint yelled after Darcy, throwing his hands up in frustration. Thankfully, Bobby brought in a large order that distracted him from the mysterious weirdness of Darcy Lewis. She came back after closing with another glass. This one was met with no argument, as Clint was fairly certain he'd lose again, and she was right - he did  _ not  _ want her to escalate. He cleaned the kitchen, then headed upstairs to collapse into his bed. Kate still had Lucky at her place from his and Natalie's date. He would have to try and remember to give her a thank you. Maybe some kind of trick arrow? Clint fell asleep thinking about the possibilities, his last being  _ boomerang _ .

He slept surprisingly soundly, and woke up a little stiff, but not nearly as bad as he should be. He begrudgingly credited Darcy and her mysterious green drink as he stretched without feeling anything in his ribs. Guess he would start that training that Kate wanted him to do. He changed into shorts and a t-shirt, then went downstairs. Clint started the coffee, then cleared an area on the floor by dumping the random crap on the coffee table and shoving that against the couch. By then, the coffee was finished, and he was able to chug a cup, then poured a second to take into the living area with him.

Clint set it on the inch of table left, then started stretching. The last of his stiffness was worked out. He moved to jumping jacks, then squats, followed by push-ups. He experimented with one-armed push-ups, pleased to see he could get some reps. Stripping off his shirt, Clint did sit ups, crunches, and threw in some acrobatic movements. Doing a lazy walkover, he stood and contemplated getting a pull up bar. The movements weren't  _ hard,  _ but he could tell he had lost some strength. He shrugged and did some wrist and forearm stretches, then found an open spot against the wall. He kicked up into a handstand and held it for a minute before coming back down. Walking a few feet away, Clint heard the door open as he kicked up into a freestanding handstand. He walked on his hands to the wall as Lucky rushed in and tried to lick his face.

“”Lucky, no! Sit!” Lucky actually listened, wagging his tail as Clint kicked down again.

“Whatcha doin’, Hawkeye?” Kate called to him as she went to the kitchen to get coffee.

“Getting some exercise in, so I can help out my second favorite Hawkeye.”

She came into the living area, blowing on a cup of sludge that Kate knew looked terrible but tasted amazing. “Weren't you pretty messed up last night still?”

Clint shrugged a few times, then laced his fingers together and pushed them forward, stretching his back. “Yeah, but Darcy stepped in with some magic smoothie and I'm good to go.”

“Really,” Kate drew out the word, frowning a little.

Clint changed to pull his arms behind him. “Yeah. Kind of crazy. Who would have thought vegetables were what I needed?”

_ Not Tony Stark _ , Kate thought. She didn't know exactly what was in the viciously green concoctions that she'd seen in the med labs, but she was willing to bet her trust fund that it wouldn't be the fix to Clint's mysterious amnesia. It was sweet of Darcy to try, though. “Maybe you should eat more of them,” she suggested.

“I'm good,” Clint informed her. “It tasted disgusting.”

Kate rolled her eyes but didn't respond, choosing instead to take a drink of coffee. Clint bent down and started petting Lucky enthusiastically. The dog flopped onto his back and received a two handed belly rub, making him  _ woof  _ softly in happiness. “I saw a video where a collie did a headstand. Do you want to learn to do that, Luck? Work off some of that pizza?”

Lucky batted at Clint with a paw and rolled onto his belly, before laying his head on the floor and crossing his front paws over his nose. Kate laughed. “I think that's a no.”

“Lucky! Watch!” Lucky kept his eye on his master as Clint set himself into a headstand against the wall. “You're just as smart as a collie, Pizza Dog. You could totally do this.” When Lucky responded by closing his eye and letting out a snore, Kate laughed again. “Fine. You're not a circus dog.” Clint then pushed himself up into a handstand, holding for a few moments before coming back down.

“Let's see some push-ups, Barton.”

“Already did them, Bishop.”

Kate smirked. “Handstand push-ups? You did not.”

“I was getting to it!”

“Bet I can do more than you.” 

Clint sneered. “You're not even warmed up.”

Kate brushed her shoulders off. “I've already worked out and had range time. But I'll still win.”

“You're on.” Clint shuffled down a foot so Kate had space at the wall. Kate set her coffee cup on the counter and swaggered over, tucking her t-shirt into her skinny jeans as she went. Lucky sat back up, wagging his tail. “Three, two, one, go!”

They both kicked into a handstand, lowering themselves to touch their heads on the floor, then pushing back into the handstand. They were fairly evenly matched, Kate having a slight advantage since she was smaller. “Are you having a heart attack, old man? You're breathing pretty hard,” Kate taunted him as he paused. His response was to walk sideways on his hands and kick at her legs, trying to unbalance her. “Cheat!” Kate said as she had to come down off her hands.

“All's fair in love and war,” a female voice said from the doorway. Clint, who had been pushing himself for one more, fell down in surprise at hearing Natalie's voice. 

Lucky bounded over. Natasha, recognizing the signs of imminent jumping, snapped, “ **Down** ,” in Russian. He stopped, tail wagging furiously. “ **Sit.** ” Lucky immediately sat. “ **Greet** .” Lucky politely offered a paw, which she shook, then he touched his nose to her hand and woofed slightly. After she released his paw, Natasha used both hands to scratch behind Lucky's ears. It was then that she realized Kate and Clint were staring at her.

“Are you a dog whisperer?” Clint asked.

“Yes, are you?  _ Because I'm not sure there's any other logical explanation _ ,” Kate said, the last sentence being slightly louder than the first.

“I'm just a dog person,” Natasha replied smoothly. Lucky snuck in a lick on her hand, and Natasha had to fight the urge to wipe her hands on her jeans. They were probably already covered in dog hair anyway. She instead took a hard look at Clint, though she was careful to make it look more like a sexily appraising way rather than an injury evaluation. Judging by Kate's mild blush, and Clint’s glazed over eyes, Natasha succeeded. “You're looking…fit,” she said huskily, then wet her lips.

“The things that are green, I drank them,” Clint stumbled out. Kate slapped her hand on her forehead. Natasha couldn't hold back the laughter. “Aw, this sucks, I'm going back to bed,” Clint complained.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry! I just can't translate that!” Natasha dissolved into another fit of laughter, bending over at the waist and clutching her stomach.

Kate removed her hand from her face and informed her, “He drank some sort of green smoothie from Darcy, our supervisor. He thinks there were vegetables in it.”

Lucky chose that moment to lick Natasha's face, so she straightened and wiped it off. Clint was pouting as he pulled on his shirt. She pouted back at him after his head popped through. “Shame. I was enjoying the view.”

Kate mimed gagging before saying, “I think that's my cue to leave. Is Lucky staying with me tonight?” Lucky whined softly and slunk to Clint, butting his head against Clint's hand.

“I missed you too, buddy. He can stay with me. Natalie, you want to hang out with us tonight? I'll make dinner. It won't even be pizza.”

“I'll see you guys later,” Kate called as her phone started buzzing in her pocket, and she had to make a hasty exit to see what emergency had cropped up. After reading the alert, she sent a quick text to Darcy.  _ C just asked N for Netflix and chill. Will discuss next I see you. _

Clint and Lucky turned their puppy dog eyes onto their target. “You don't have to beg. I'd love to see you. Both of you,” Natasha added. “I've got some things to do today, but I can be back around six, if that works?”

Clint smiled winningly. “Six is perfect.”

“Do you want me to bring anything?”

“Nope, well, if you want something to drink other than coffee or beer, you can bring that.”

“I can do that. See you tonight.” She crossed over, scratched Lucky on the head one more time, and offered Clint a quick kiss before she left as well. Lucky followed her to the door, scratching softly when it closed and letting out a little whine.

“She'll be back, Luck. She makes an impression, doesn't she?” He smiled goofily at the door for a moment, then his face dropped a little. “What the hell am I going to cook?!”

Natasha left through the unlocked alley exit, then pulled her phone from her pocket to see if she had any info on what Kate had been tagged about. There was a text from Steve.  _ Secondary team. Assistance unlikely.  _

Natasha responded back with a smiley face, then ducked into the backseat of the car that she'd arrived in. The driver would take her back to the Tower, while she could mentally catalogue her lingerie to figure out what she'd wear tonight. It would be presumptuous to pack a bag, and she moved past the pang that accompanied the acknowledgment she'd even need one, instead of just having her own things already at Clint's. It wouldn't match her cover to show up in the SHIELD sweatpants they traded back and forth and a tank top, but she was sure she could figure out something appropriate for a night in (and the potential morning after). 

The car pulled up to the Tower, and Natasha used the main lobby to access the elevators that went to the private floors. “Passcode: I will kill you, Tony, if you make this murder thighs.”

“Welcome back, Agent Romanoff. What floor?” Jarvis greeted her.

“Where is Agent Hill?”

“Floor 125, monitoring the situation in Queens.”

“I'll see her first, please.”

The elevator glided to the requested floor, opening silently. Natasha walked soundlessly in her flats, what Natalie would have felt was weekend wear. A little ways down the hall was the central office for Avengers security support. Hill was paranoid enough to require a code to be entered before the door would unlock, on a screen that was hidden unless you knew exactly where to hit on the bulletproof smart glass. It was also Winter Soldier proof, Mjolnir proof, explosive arrow proof, shield proof, and repulsor proof. No one had wanted to test if it was Hulk proof, but Maria had seemed satisfied that the other Avengers wouldn't be able to enter through force. 

After Natasha typed in her code, she opened the door to find a handful of support staff on monitors and tablets, with Hill standing in the back of the room with her own StarkPad. She briefly looked up when Natasha entered, nodding in acknowledgment as she spoke into an earpiece. “Affirmative, Captain. Situation resolved. ETA to base, twenty minutes. Is decontamination needed?” She listened to the response, then answered, “Understood. Debrief to occur at 1100. Hill, out.” Maria tapped her earpiece to silence it, then made some notes on the tablet before addressing the room. “Good work, team. Agent Moskowitz, I’d like you to attend the debrief. The rest of you can return to normal duties.” There were sharp nods around the room, and a brief outburst of various noises as the agents gathered their things and departed. 

Once they were alone, Maria looked to Natasha. “Romanoff. Glad that the secondary team wasn’t called?”

Natasha shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t mind missing out on the decontamination. Wouldn’t have minded some action, though.”

The corner of Maria’s mouth ticked up. “Bored, are we? Rushman was a pretty tame cover for you. Offer stands if you’d like me to pull you onto something else.”

“I appreciate that, but I’ll stay for now. I have some time to kill, thought you might want to hit the range with me.”

Maria checked her watch and considered for a moment. “What time are your other plans?”

“Six.”

“You weren’t kidding about time to kill. I can do one o’clock?”

“Sounds good.” Maria made the entry in her calendar, and they both exited - Maria to prepare for her debrief, and Natasha to go find Pepper. Jarvis informed her that Pepper had a few minutes between meetings, and the elevator was directed to the correct floor. Security was a little more conventional here, though no less strict. Jarvis was able to push her through without a keycard, though she had to offer a retinal scan to enter Pepper’s office. When she walked in, Pepper gestured to her to sit and rolled her eyes at the phone.

“Yes, Ron, I completely understand your frustration. We'll prioritize this issue at the next R&D meeting.” She listened for another moment. “Of course. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” Another pause. “You, too.” She hung up the phone and smiled at Natasha. “Sorry about that.”

“Sounds like you've got your hands full.”

Pepper sighed, leaning back in her chair. “More so than usual today. I'm not sure if this is going to end up being some elaborate diversion, or a full moon. Anyway, it's nice of you to drop by.”

“Of course. I'd hoped for lunch, but it sounds like that might be outside the realm of possibility today.”

Pepper tapped her fingers on her desk, thinking. “I think I could get away for a little while, but I don't think I can go much further than the lobby restaurants, I'm afraid.”

“How about my place? I could use your input for tonight anyway. Two birds and all that.”

“You don't mind?”

Natasha tilted her head to one side. “If I minded, I wouldn't have offered. You're almost always welcome,” she added, letting out a small laugh that Pepper echoed.

“I'll head that way after my meeting is over.”

“Sushi?”

“You know the way to my heart.” Pepper gathered her things, Natasha standing as she did. “See you soon!”

“See you soon.” Natasha went to the elevator, Pepper to another office. This time, Natasha headed to her floor. She called the sushi restaurant downstairs, placing an order for takeout. Natasha went ahead and went down, stopping to purchase some of the bottled water that Pepper preferred before picking up her order. She lingered for a few minutes, practicing her Japanese (which the owner, an elderly man, assured her was not rusty as she claimed) before going back upstairs to her floor. Setting the food and water in the refrigerator to wait for Pepper, Natasha set out a dish of food for Liho before going to her bedroom to contemplate her wardrobe. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, pushing aside a few hangers and grabbing some options to toss on the bed. Then a few more. Natasha opened her drawers and pulled out a few lingerie sets, throwing those on the bed as well, before grabbing more things out of the closet, moving the hangers a little more frantically.

When Pepper arrived, she found Natasha laying on the bed, facedown, and clothes strewn everywhere. Pepper knew Natasha was aware of her presence, but she still knocked lightly on the doorframe. “Everything okay, Natasha?” Natasha mumbled into the bed. “I'm sorry?”

Natasha propped herself up on her elbows and looked over her shoulder at Pepper. “Who would have thought Natalie Rushman doesn't know how to dress for a date?” 

Pepper came and sat on the edge of the bed. “What kind of date is it?”

“Clint's cooking dinner and then we're just hanging out at his place.”

Pepper smiled at her and said gently, “I think Natalie is having an issue because that's a Natasha date. I know this is a pot kettle situation, but you're overthinking it.”

Natasha huffed out a breath. “That  _ is  _ the pot calling the kettle black.” She paused. “But you're right.”

Pepper let out a little laugh. “I normally am. Tony hates it.” She looked around. “Why don't I help you sort this out, then we'll have lunch?”

“Darcy is right. You, Pepper Potts, are a goddess.”

Pepper blushed slightly. “Oh stop. Come on.” Pepper stood, and Natasha pushed herself off the bed to stand as well. As they looked around the room, Pepper raised a brow. “I see we've changed our mission objectives.”

Natasha smirked, but said primly, “I don't know what you mean.”

Pepper hooked a black lace bra by a strap and held it up. “Oh really?”

“Too obvious.”

Pepper shook her head. “Classic for a reason.”

Natasha shrugged a shoulder, and Pepper dropped it on the bed. They made a small pile of lingerie first, moving on to the actual outfit after they'd agreed on a purple set with a black lace overlay. Agreeing with Natasha that her normal outfit was out, Pepper found a pair of jeggings and a faded, but fitted, gray T-shirt. Natasha hated to leave a mess, but wanted to be mindful of Pepper’s time, so left the remaining clothes where they were and laid out the date night outfit on the bed. “Is it weird to change from jeans to jeggings?”

“Not at all. So much more comfortable.”

Natasha tried not to overthink the word jeggings as she retrieved the sushi and water to sit with Pepper at the table. Pepper caught Natasha up with the latest at Stark Industries, including anything she’d heard about mind control devices - which wasn’t much, and none of them with the partial memory blockage that they had been looking for. Pepper also confirmed that none of her business contacts had been in touch with Whitney Frost; in fact, there hadn’t been a whisper of the woman other than she was in town. Pepper and Tony always seemed to have some sort of gala or opening to attend, though, so Pepper assured Natasha that she’d catch up on the social scene as well. When Jarvis issued a fifteen minute warning for Pepper’s next meeting, and Natasha’s scheduled range time with Maria, they cleaned up and hugged briefly. “You’ll knock him over with a feather!” Pepper called as she dashed out the door. 

Well,  _ that _ was never in doubt. Natasha nodded once, her self-confidence restored. She changed into workout leggings, a sports bra, and a SHIELD issue tank top. Tugging on socks and gym shoes, she jogged to the elevator and was taken promptly to the Avengers gym. Maria was already waiting, similarly attired. They went to the range armory, selecting similar Glocks. “Feel better yet?” Maria asked as they selected ear protection. 

Natasha shrugged a shoulder. “More like myself.”

Maria frowned at her. “Don't tell me you're compromised. You can’t mix yourself and a cover, Natasha. Even in a situation like this. You know that.”

Natasha ignored her, moving to her lane and fitting her protectors on. She'd been in espionage for decades; of course she knew what she was doing. The first magazine was spent in a matter of seconds, her temper getting the best of her and she knew it. Natasha carefully set the gun on the counter. The muffled sounds from Maria’s lane ceased after Natasha had taken seven deep breaths. She took three more, and when the gunfire had not started again, removed the protectors as she turned around. Maria was there, a slight crease between her brows. Natasha shook her head. “I'm  _ fine _ , Maria.”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest. “As your SO, I'll take your word for it. Lord knows you're an enigma wrapped in a riddle, then coated in a hard shell of mystery. But as your friend, you really can come to me, Natasha. You know that it stays between you and me.”

“And Steve.” Natasha stopped, holding up a hand against the flash of warning in Maria's eyes. “No, I'm sorry. That was out of line, unfair, and untrue.” She paused, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes. “It's been harder than I expected,” Natasha admitted in a quiet tone. 

Maria awkwardly patted her on the arm a couple of times before clearing her throat. “You'll bring him back in. It's what you guys do. Barton always finds his way back into my life anyway. He's like a bad penny.”

Natasha huffed out a laugh before scrubbing her hands over her face. “Shooting was a bad idea.”

“I'm not sparring with you when you're in a mood.”

“Want to mess with Tony instead?"

“Oh,  _ God _ , yes. Jarvis, what is Tony’s current location?”

“Sir is in the common kitchen, as is Ms. Lewis, Dr. Foster, and Dr. Banner.”

Natasha smiled. “Wonderful. Darcy loves to lend a helping hand.” They packed away their gear and strolled to the elevator. As the doors closed, both looked straight ahead. “Thanks, Maria.”

“Don't mention it. I have a reputation to protect.” Natasha’s mouth twitched, but before she could respond, the elevator arrived on the common floor and she had other matters to attend to - like seeing who could make Tony's eye twitch first.

It was an enthusiastic battle, and one that had rules of warfare. Darcy wasn't allowed to bring up her sex life, as the others knew that was an immediate win (and her father had been almost violently clear that it was an off-limit subject), Natasha and Maria could not imply violence, and Thor was not allowed to assist Jane. Tony was beginning to catch on, and had built up some resistance, but it was ultimately Bruce who prevailed when he started asking Tony about dream meanings around Tony with different facial hair configurations. Tony had slapped his hand over his eye and stomped off, Darcy and Jane hooting with laughter. 

Bruce, trying and failing not to look pleased with himself, muttered about needing to go back to the lab. When Natasha asked, he only responded he was making some progress and then hurried out. Maria raised her eyebrows, and Natasha offered a small nod as confirmation that she was okay, before Maria left back to her office. Darcy pointed two fingers at her eyes, then gestured at Natasha's, indicating Darcy was watching her as Jane almost literally dragged her assistant out of the kitchen. Natasha sighed once, then went back to her own floor. She used the time to clean from her frenzy that morning, then carefully applied understated makeup and did her hair in a topknot. Liho was fed and scratched under the chin before she changed (and privately admitted there was a difference between jeans and jeggings). Natasha also asked Jarvis to call a car for her. There were a couple minutes debating about what kind of drink she wanted to bring, eventually deciding that she could do with a beer or two, and decided not to worry about it. Zipping up a navy hoodie that had a circled X on the sleeve, it reminded her that she should text Anna. If anyone could relate to boyfriends losing their memory, it would be the X-Woman. She grabbed her purse and phone to head to Clint’s, sliding on the flats and then firing off a text in the elevator to her friend. 

It was a drive that she was all too familiar with, though her training never quite let her zone out. She did send a quick text to Clint to let him know she was on her way, then moved to her email, putting down the phone when she received a response from Pepper to one of her emails telling her to take a break. When Pepper Potts tells you that you are a workaholic, you have to listen - she’d managed far worse than Natasha. The car pulled to a stop in front of the Hawkeye’s alley shortly after, so thankfully there was not much time to worry about the similarities between herself and Tony. She slipped her phone into her hoodie pocket as she exited the car and headed to the alley door. Still unlocked, which made her roll her eyes. 

“Jarvis, are you still monitoring this place?”

Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out to read the text.  _ Yes, Agent Romanoff.  _

“Well, that’s something,” she muttered. Shoving the phone back in her pocket, Natasha jogged up the stairs. Something smelled delicious and not pizza like, so she figured Clint had lived up to his promise. Opening the door, she was greeted enthusiastically by Lucky running up to her, though this time Natasha had only to point to the floor to have him sitting. She rewarded him with a scratch behind the ears. There was some disconcerting banging coming from the kitchen, so Natasha wandered in - and was immediately shoved back out. Shock kept her from going on the offensive. That, and Clint poking his head out and aiming a charming grin her way. 

“Sorry, it’s not quite ready yet. Do you want a beer?” A little line between her brows, she nodded, though she did stick her tongue out at him when he turned. Natasha was smiling her Natalie smile when he came back and handed her the bottle. “I’ll be another few minutes in here, sorry. Make yourself comfortable. You kind of already know where everything is.” She made a noncommittal noise, hips swaying as she walked back to the living room. 

Clint watched her for a moment, then mentally kicked himself back into gear and went back into the kitchen. He’d taken a while to figure out what to make, then remembered he desperately needed a shower. He had given himself another headache trying to remember a scar on his hip, and failing. It was almost tempting to start writing things down, but he was paranoid enough to not want to keep that kind of a paper trail. There had been shopping to do, then he'd checked on the restaurant before dashing upstairs to start dinner. Naturally, he was running a bit behind on schedule, but it didn’t seem like Natalie minded. He peeked around the pillar that separated the kitchen from the living area, to see her checking out the bow that was mounted on his wall. He turned his attention back to the stove.

After a couple of minutes, he flipped the last sandwich onto a plate and ladled soup into bowls, then picked up the food and set it on the bar area. He took a beer out of the fridge for himself before coming out to Natalie, still staring at the bow. “Dinner is ready,” he said. When there was no response, he walked closer. “Nat?” Her head whipped to face him, and he smiled gently. “Anyone home?”

Natasha forced herself to laugh lightly and shrug. “Sorry, just got lost in my thoughts, I guess.” Seeing the bow he'd owned when bringing her into SHIELD mounted on the wall had brought a flood of emotions that she was desperately suppressing. Much like the crystal bird in his bedroom window, she would use it to strengthen her resolve and push her towards her goal. “It smells great.”

Clint held his hand out towards her, and she walked to him to link fingers. He tugged her to the stools, squeezing his hand around hers briefly before letting go to wave grandly as he presented their meal. “I tried to think of a fancy name for grilled cheese and tomato soup, but I figured may as well not be pretentious. The grilled cheese is special though. Used real butter, sweet bread, bacon, and two kinds of cheese. I made one with tomato and one without, just in case you don’t like tomatoes. I know some people have a texture thing with them. I don’t really care either way. If you don’t want the tomato soup that’s okay too. Could you say something so I stop talking?”

Natasha was touched. “I’ll take the one without tomato. I still like the soup, though.” She stood on the balls of her feet to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

Clint looked very pleased. “You’re welcome. Ignore Lucky, I made him one of his own, he just likes to beg. Do you want another beer?”

“That would be great.” She handed him her empty, then sat down on one of the stools. Clint set a fresh bottle across the counter from her, then took one of the sandwiches off the plate and set it on the floor of the kitchen. Lucky happily trotted in, Clint patting him on the side before coming back out to sit with Natasha. She gingerly picked up the still hot sandwich without tomato and set it on her plate, while Clint pushed a bowl of soup toward her. He had to get back up to get spoons, but then they were able to dig in.

After the first couple bites, Natasha was impressed. “Clint, this is really good.” They'd tended more towards takeout, never being home. He'd cooked for her before, and obviously his pizza was excellent, but she hadn't expected anything like this. The bread was crispy but not burnt, the cheese perfectly melted, and the bacon was the perfect combination with the sweet bread. Lucky woofed softly in agreement. Clint mumbled something through a bite. Automatically translating, she tore off a piece and dipped it in the soup before popping it in her mouth. He winked at her as she continued to dip her sandwich in the soup. 

Swallowing, he said, “I'm more than just a one trick pony. Glad you like it. Pizza has been my favorite food for as long as I can remember, but I picked up some other foods to try after I moved in with Kate. Cooking centered me.” He stopped for a moment. “I guess I should be glad for that. Finding something to replace archery could have been a lot more difficult.” He frowned down at his sandwich, taking an over large bite, scowling. Natasha, too, stuffed a piece in her mouth. Archery was a core part of Clint; she needed to know what he meant, but Natalie wouldn’t understand the gravitas of him putting aside his bow. 

After a couple of minutes of the only sound being spoons clinking against bowls as they finished their soup, Natasha delicately cleared her throat. “Was there something you had in mind other than dinner?”

Clint shrugged. “Kate hooked me up with a Netflix profile. Figured there must be something there we can watch.”

Natasha set her spoon into her empty bowl. “Have you ever watched Dog Cops?”

He perked up. “Oh yeah! I love that show! I had a bunch of episodes on the DVR when I got out of the hospital, so I cleared out like half of last season in a couple of days. It was great!”

“Oh. I was really behind. Did you delete it? I can’t remember where I left off.”

Clint’s face fell a little. “Sorry, I deleted them when I finished it. I was making room for Food Network to get some cooking inspiration.”

“That’s okay,” Natasha said, in what Tony would have called her ‘too-casual’ tone.  _ You will not be mad about missing Dog Cops...there is something wrong with his brain, so you cannot hit him in the head…well, maybe if it looks like an accident. _

Clint interrupted her train of thought. “Is there anything you’re interested in?”

“I have a friend that swears to Downton Abbey.”

He wrinkled his nose a little. “Not really my thing.”

Natasha did her best not to glare at him. It had taken bribery and a rigged bet to get him to start watching it before; she’d never get him to do it while they were barely dating! “Maybe a movie?” she suggested.

“I’m sure we can find something,” Clint said. They cleaned up from dinner, then moved to the living room. Which is when Clint realized that the coffee table hadn’t been cleaned off. “Sorry, sorry,” he said as he moved things from the right side of the table to the left. He stood scratching his head for a minute, then went upstairs. 

“Clint? Where are you going?”

“Be right back,” he called down. “I need to get another blanket!”

She was puzzled. “There’s a blanket down here?” She held up the blanket from the back of the couch. 

Then Clint came downstairs with his purple comforter bundled in his arms, and she felt herself stop breathing. Natasha forced an inhale, then an exhale.  _ In, out. In, out. Be mindful, or whatever the hell Bruce is always saying.  _ Clint remembered. She had the coffee table clear to either clean her gear or put up her feet, depending on the day and her schedule. The weight of a comforter had made her feel more secure when she first came to SHIELD - a security blanket under the guise of hating the cold. The right side was hers, always. When they sat on the couch, when they went through a door to face the villain of the week, and when they went to bed. Natasha, still clutching the blanket, moved her hand to her aching chest. She must have been trembling a little, because Clint looked concerned. “Natalie? He pried the blanket out of her hand and dropped it back on the couch, but the name of her cover was like a slap to the face. 

“Sorry, must have gotten a cold chill.” Clint immediately wrapped her in the comforter, then kissed her nose. 

“Snug as a bug in a rug.”

“I...don’t know how to respond to that.”

Clint shrugged. “Something my ma would say. Doesn’t have a response.” He surprised her by picking her up and setting her on the couch, feet on the coffee table. He plopped himself down heavily next to her, sliding his arm along the back of the couch while she leaned into him. Lucky came around and jumped up onto the other side of Clint, moving so he could rest his head on Natasha’s lap. “What are you in the mood for?”

Natasha pulled the cover tighter around herself and laid her head on his shoulder. “Something not sad.”

“Action movie it is!” Clint searched and found the movie he wanted. “Have you ever seen Bad Boys II?”

“No?” When Clint starts laughing hysterically about someone being shot in the ass, she closes  her eyes to keep from rolling them. They were so close, at least she'd thought. Throughout the movie, as he got more excited about the explosions, Natasha felt herself getting more and more depressed. There was no way his taste in movies was actually this bad. Had Phil trained him out of it somehow? They used to put this stuff on as a joke. 

As the credits rolled, he asked, “Another?”

“How about Hot Fuzz?” She felt him shrug.

“Never seen it but I'm willing to give it a shot.” Another blow; it was a favorite choice for team movie night. He found it and put it on anyway, seeming to enjoy it. Natasha was comforted by their shared laughter, even if the small nudges hinting at inside jokes weren't there. Starting to drift off, Natasha decided she could stay in a state of denial for a little longer. 

Clint felt Natalie’s breathing even out, which surprised him. She didn’t seem like the type to trust enough to fall asleep, but he could be pleased about that. He enjoyed the rest of the movie, shaking her slightly when it was over. “Natalie? Are you staying?” Her response was to burrow more into him. Clint debated for a minute, then decided they may as well be comfortable. He gently moved around so that he could slide his arms under her, then got them off the couch and up the stairs to bed. He laid her on the right side, then snapped his fingers at Lucky to go back downstairs. 

He took the dog outside for a quick break, not even bothering with a leash. They came back inside, Natalie not having stirred. Clint changed out of jeans and into sweatpants. It wasn’t how he normally slept, but he didn’t want to be the weirdo that woke up half naked and the woman not remembering why he didn’t have his clothes on. Lucky jumped on the bed and laid at the foot, falling asleep with a few exhales out of his snout that normally meant he was happy. Clint fell asleep not soon after, and slept the best he had in months. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Natasha get to the "chill" part, and then there's a different kind of action...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will warn you now that there is a fade to black. I'm not at the point where I'm comfortable writing smut. Please use your imaginations ;-) Also, sorry it's short - I had a bad case of writer's block on this one, but figured something was better than nothing, right? Enjoy!

Clint woke slowly, stretching before rolling over to cuddle Natalie. Warm, soft Natalie. A Natalie that licked him in the face. Squinting open his eyes, he saw Lucky panting happily at him. Clint grumpily wiped off his face and groaned as he rolled back over. After a moment, he sat straight up, grabbing his aids off his nightstand and shoving them into his ears. He couldn’t hear anything, and was disappointed that Natalie would have left without waking him. But then he noticed his favorite smell was starting to permeate the loft. 

Fresh coffee. He pushed the covers off and stood, Lucky jumping down and bolting downstairs (Clint was more of a stumble). When he reached the living room, he saw Natalie curled up on the couch watching...entertainment news? while wrapped in a blanket. She was holding a mug in two hands and seemed to be whispering to Lucky. “Hey,” he croaked out. 

Natalie smiled at him. “Hey, yourself. Want some coffee?”

“My hero,” Clint said, then continued his stumble to the bar area and plopped himself onto a stool. Natalie and Lucky followed, though veered off into the kitchen. She leaned onto the counter, resting her weight on her elbows. 

“I love being a hero,” Natalie teased him. “I’ve been a villain before; being on the light side of the Force is a good feeling.”

“Coffee  _ and  _ Star Wars? Marry me.”

Her only response was a wink, then she straightened and turned, standing on her tiptoes to reach a coffee mug out of a cabinet, and that’s when Clint realized she wasn’t wearing any pants. His mind went blank.

When Natasha turned around, she smirked at Clint's vacant gaze. The sound of his cup being set on the counter in front of him interrupted wherever his thoughts had gone; Natasha felt a thrill run through her at the way his eyes had darkened. She walked out of the kitchen, throwing a look over her shoulder to make sure he was watching her.

Clint couldn't have taken his eyes off Natalie if the Hulk had torn down his building. He gripped the handle of his cup tightly, taking a large drink of the too hot liquid. His eyes watered, but Clint didn't care as he watched Natalie pick up her own cup and walk back to him. She took a drink, letting Clint roam his eyes over her, before delicately dipping a finger into the cup and dropping tea on her shirt. 

Still watching him, Natalie set the cup back down and peeled the T-shirt over her head. Clint just barely managed to not drop his coffee at the sight of her, accented in the black and purple lace lingerie set. She sauntered toward him, only stopping when her legs brushed his. “Oh no, my shirt,” she said, leaning into him but not quite kissing. “I'll have to get a new one.” She closed the distance then, the kiss searing. They were both panting slightly when she pulled away. “Perhaps you wouldn't mind if I borrowed one of yours.”

“Uh huh.” This ended on a slight groan as she pulled away, tugging slightly on his hand. Clint stood eagerly, then fought to get his shirt off, dropping it on the floor as he followed Natalie upstairs. 

Lucky heard the door close, then jumped up on the couch. His humans were going to be a while. May as well be comfortable. He wished Nat had turned on a different channel, though. He gave a happy little bork about his humans being back together, then settled in for a nap.

Afterwards, Natasha was reluctant to leave, and Clint didn't want her to go, but he needed to get downstairs and into the kitchen. There was only so much he could ask of Peter, after all. They cleaned up (though not very quickly, Clint feeling frisky in the shower despite a headache that was beginning to brew) and he escorted her downstairs to the alley exit. Natasha frowned at the door as she stood in the alley. “Make sure you lock this after me.”

Clint let out a half laugh. “I have a security system. No one uses the alley except for you, me, and Kate.”

She stared at him for a second. “I'm sorry, I didn't realize criminals would only go through the front door.”

“Not what I meant! Kate and I can take care of things if anyone gets that far. Plus, she assured me it's a really good system.”

“Just lock it! What good is a security system if the door is unlocked?”

Clint leaned down to lightly kiss her neck, moving his way up to her ear. “But how will you sneak up to my place if the door is locked?” 

She rolled her eyes and shoved him, though he didn't move. “I promise I'll find a way.”

Clint straightened at that, looking at her with a line between his brows. “You know, I believe you could.” Natasha pulled his head down to hers, giving him a thorough kiss goodbye. “I could find a way to make this up to Peter. Let's go back upstairs,” he murmured to her.

Natasha laughed. “I can't. But, I'll try to come back tomorrow night after work. How's that?”

“Can't wait.” They shared one more deep kiss before Natasha disentangled herself and left, Clint making a show of pretending to turn the lock when she looked over her shoulder. She was still chuckling as she slid into the backseat of her waiting car. 

Clint smiled through the lunch rush, even whistling a tune periodically. The staff didn't comment, but money was slipped to Luis by several other employees. Lola muttered something to him in Spanish that made him laugh nervously, but she still slapped money onto the bar for him to take. Kate came in around 2, greeting people as she crossed through the restaurant and into the kitchen. She stopped short when she heard the whistling. Guess Clint managed to seal the deal.

Correction,  _ Natasha  _ sealed the deal. Kate poked her head through the door, but didn't see Nat in the kitchen and figured it was safe to proceed, and channeled her inner America for confidence as she fully entered the room. “So, when do I get my thank you?”

Clint, wrist deep in dough, responded with a “Huh?” 

“About Natalie? I totally hooked you up with a hottie. You're welcome.”

“You can't talk like that until you're 18, girly girl.” He smiled when she stuck her tongue out at him. “You working tonight?”

“Just came in for some office stuff.”

Clint nodded, winking at her when she tapped her toe and then threw her hands up in disgust. As she went upstairs, Clint yelled “Thank you!” after her. He went back to prepping for dinner, while Kate stomped to the office.

She'd paid bills and was working on an employee schedule when Darcy came in to toss her stuff in a locker. “So,” Darcy said, raising her eyebrows up and down, “did Natasha stay the night?”

Kate shrugged. “She wasn't here when I got here.”

“Well, she wasn't in the Tower, and she's not on a mission…”

“Hill would never have told you that.”

“No, but James did.”

“God help us if you ever decide to change sides. I'll just surrender instead of waiting for the Winter Soldier to tell you all of our secrets in bed.”

“What makes you think he hasn't?” Kate made a strangled noise, making Darcy laugh. “Anyway, I'm betting she made the walk of sexual empowerment.”

“The what?”

“I refuse to call it the walk of shame.”

Kate held up her hand, and Darcy high fived her.  Kate's phone trilled and vibrated at the same time, signalling an incoming Assemble call. She acknowledged the request and grabbed her bag out from under the desk. “Duty calls.” She was trying, unsuccessfully, to read the note on the screen and grab the pieces of her costume out of her bag. Darcy pushed her hand out of the way, letting Kate focus as Darcy pulled items out and set them on the desk. “All hands on deck. They're sending one of the flyers to get me. Something on the West Coast. That's all I've got for now.”

Darcy nodded. “I'll let you get changed.” She left, pulling the door closed behind her, then went downstairs to keep herself busy. Kate, meanwhile, changed and put her extra stuff in a locker. She couldn't have any extra weight for this pick-up. Looping her quiver and bow on, she jogged downstairs. “Clint, I need you to finish the schedule. I'm not sure when I'll be back.”

He turned and came over to her. “No problem. Be safe, Hawkeye.” Clint made sure the quiver was full, but she slapped his hand when he reached for her bow. He lightly punched her in the arm in return. She gave him a quick hug, and he held her tightly for the brief seconds. “See you soon, Katie.”

“See you soon, Clint.”  _ It should be you _ was all she could think as she went into the alley to await her ride.

Clint turned back to his work, hoping to distract himself. Someone - he assumed the iPod manager herself - started up some classic rock, generously sharing it in the kitchen. Metallica, Zeppelin, a little Cobain, Black Sabbath, AC/DC. The playlist kept going until the dinner rush started, and orders were flying in as fast as he could get pizza out. All of a sudden, his hearing aids let loose some kind of feedback, which had him letting out a string of curses as he pulled them out. 

Clint turned them off and on, putting them back in his ears carefully. He walked to the sink to wash his hands and get back to work. As he turned on the water, the lights cut out. 

_ Fuck  _ was Clint’s first reaction. His second reaction was to check on the dining room. As he came through the doors from the kitchen, he saw Luis, Hope, and Bobby walking around and talking to customers. Several had turned on their flashlights on their phones. Darcy was by the front door, tapping rapidly on the alarm panel’s touch screen. “Lewis, what are you doing?” 

As she turned to answer, the front door blew in, taking portions of the wall with it. Dust filled the air, making several people cough. Several small robots flew inside, and Clint thought,  _ You've got to be fucking kidding me.  _ Then the shooting started.

The laser fire had people screaming and ducking under tables for cover. Bottles behind the bar were being shattered, adding to the chaos.  _ Idiot! Only bow is upstairs, and you probably couldn't use it anyway. Gotta get these people out of here!  _ Clint army crawled to the kitchen doors, pushing them open to see that it was undisturbed.  _ Now I need a distraction.  _ This was going to hurt.

Clint stood and ran to the bar, jumping and sliding over the top. As expected, the robots focused on him. Lola was crouched behind the bar, though she mostly looked annoyed. “This is going to take forever to clean up,” she stated to him.

“Yeah, I know. It's only going to get worse. God, I hope Kate got that insurance policy.”

“You don't even know if you have insurance?!”

“I have normal insurance! I just don't know if she got the one that covers superpowered attacks.”

“They're robots, that doesn't mean superpowered.”

“Dammit, Lola, not the time!” She shrugged at him and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He ground out, “Kitchen is clear. Start taking people out that way. Get them in the alley and then get them clear. I'll draw their attention.”

“What about Darcy?”

Clint risked poking his head over the bar and looked to where the front door had been. He felt a stab of guilt when he saw her, lying motionless on the ground, but the robots weren't paying her any attention. Clint ducked back down. “They're leaving her alone. I'm going to try and make it to the patio. Get people out.” She nodded, then moved to be closer to the exit. Clint grabbed a corkscrew and took a deep breath. As he jumped on top of the bar and started running down it, Lola rolled her eyes at the dramatics, and then stayed low to the ground as she moved to the nearest table to start directing customers. 

Clint dodged the lasers, though there were some close calls that singed his shirt. He'd gained enough momentum to jump from the bar onto a still upright table, then springing onto the closest robot. He took the corkscrew and stabbed it into a hunk of cords at its neck. It twisted and turned in the air, with its...companions? shooting at them both. The one he was riding took two blasts to the chest, driving it back wildly and tossing Clint into a wall. He hit the ground and rolled, causing another shot to miss. The rolling didn't help with his double vision, and he fought the urge to shake his head. Luckily, he'd moved towards the patio and away from the escaping customers. Unluckily, his mouth was full of blood, and he wasn't sure what his next step should be except trying to get out and draw their fire away from his home.

The remaining robots had moved closer to him. Clint shakily stood, spitting the blood out of his mouth. He started to move toward the patio, but one of his opponents shot the floor next to him, forcing a halt. “Who even is this?!” Clint yelled in frustration.

The robots aimed at him in unison. One said, “Good-bye, Clint Barton, designation Hawkeye.” 

“I'm not Hawkeye anymore! You've got to be kidding me with this sh-” He was cut off by a green teenager, a boy in a cape, and a woman in red white and blue appearing in the middle of the restaurant. The green teenager launched himself at a robot, as did the woman. The third member of their group spoke in a language that Clint didn't recognize, and a red forcefield appeared around the last. 

“Hey, Clint,” he said after his opponent was immobilized.

“Hey, Billy,” Clint sighed. “Thanks for the help. How did you guys know? Please tell me you aren't my security company.”

“No, no way. We actually were coming to dinner anyway, and then we saw the robots, so figured we should jump in. Especially since America said Kate was out of town.”

“Cool.” There was a slightly awkward pause, and then Clint started. “Oh shit! Darcy!” He ran over to where she lay, noticing she was starting to stir. “Lewis, don't move.”

“Jack booted thug, always telling me what to do,” she muttered. 

“Darcy, you've probably got a concussion. Stay still.” Billy had come over, looking panicked. “Did you call 911?”

“Uhh…yeah. Should be here soon.” He was staring at Darcy, looking a little more afraid than the situation warranted, which Clint tried to ignore. He was just a kid. A kid with ridiculous powers, but still a kid. So was his boyfriend, Teddy. Teddy, the green teenager that had just been thrown to the ground by a robot.  _ Oh, you've got to be fu-  _ Clint's thought was interrupted by the feeling of a dart of some kind hitting him, and the unconsciousness that followed. 

When he came to, he was laying on his back and a light was shining in his eyes. “Clint, you awake?”

“Ugh, yeah. How long have I been out? And could you stop with the light?” The light went out, and he saw the dark blue uniform of a first responder. Next to that was the red, white, and blue that told him America was still present. Hers was the voice that responded.

“Not long. Can you let Hillary finish checking you out? You took a big hit on the head.”

“No, I didn't,” but he stopped when America pushed down on his leg with a  _ very  _ heavy hand. “I mean, yeah, sure.”

Clint grumbled his way through the exam, America standing nearby and then neatly moving the EMT away when he'd been cleared. Clint ignored the aching in his body, walking outside to check on his employees and patrons. Which turned into talking to the police, all too quickly. He didn't have a lot of information about motive, and didn't feel the need to mention the robots knew his name. If he was being targeted because of his past,  there wasn't much New York’s finest could do. Clint tried to ask after Darcy, but the scene had been so confused that no one really knew where she went - irritating him to no end. The detective for the super unit resignedly gave him her card, which he shoved in his pocket. After his interview, Clint was able to check on everyone. There were a couple bumps and bruises, but nothing serious. He gathered the staff, fully prepared to send them home for the foreseeable future (with pay), only to be told by all of them that they would see him tomorrow to begin cleaning up. 

As the area in front of the restaurant slowly cleared, Clint went back inside through the destroyed front entrance. He took a moment to survey the damage, then walked to the bar and sat heavily on the stool. “Maybe Hawkeye is just an unlucky name. Never did any good with it, anyway.” Clint sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Wherever you are, Katie-Kate, hope it's serving you better than it ever served me.” 


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the attack on Hawkeye's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for waiting so patiently. This is a bit of a transition chapter, but it has some Avengers goodness. Hope you enjoy - and the next chapter is already planned out; I'm super excited to write it!

Tony had been too busy fighting AIM and their Godzilla robot (that breathed fire, though in true AIM style, not in a controlled fashion) to relay the alert from Jarvis to the team that Hawkeye's security was compromised. When asked, Jarvis confirmed that Darcy was on site. Since he knew she'd be working on it, Tony was able to focus on his fighting. At least, until Jarvis came back to notify him that emergency services had been called by several people, all reporting an attack at the restaurant’s address. “Get Happy down there, now!”

“Mr. Hogan is on his way, along with Ms. Lewis’ secondary security team. I've alerted Dr. Cho in case of injury.”

Tony swore and then activated his comms channel. “Hurry it up, boys and girls!”

“Working on it,” called Sam. He swooped, grabbed Steve, then shot up to drop him on the back of Godzilla’s neck. Steve rammed his shield into the joints of the thing's neck, Sam then dropping Bucky next to him to lend some metal armed assistance. Between the two, the lizard stopped within a couple minutes. The rest of the Avengers were then able to defeat AIM’s lackeys fairly handily. 

Tony flew himself to a higher altitude, knowing now that Barnes and Rogers weren't distracted, they’d hear him all too easily. “Jarvis, I need a sit rep.” When there wasn't an immediate answer, Tony barked, “Jarvis!”

“I'm trying, Sir.”

Steve's voice broke into Tony’s comm. “Tony, what's going on?”

“I'm eating a snack and didn't want to share.” He disconnected the channel before Steve could respond. “Give me something, Jarvis, before the Scooby Gang gets suspicious.”

“It's too late for that, Sir. And Dr. Cho has advised that Ms. Lewis will be fine. She has declined to give further information at this time, as she is occupied.”

“Call Pepper. Get her there. We're leaving as soon as possible.” Tony descended rapidly, dropping into a crouch with a heavy clang. He stomped to Steve and Natasha, who were speaking with the SHIELD agent supervising cleanup. “Time to go, kids. And the first one to ask about Wally World is in big trouble.”

“Tony,” was all Steve got out before he was cut off.

“We have to leave, now.” The faceplate of his armor flipped up. “I don't have the energy to do a cross country flight in this thing, so either get on the jet or find your own way home.” 

Natasha studied him for a moment, then nodded once and smiled at the SHIELD liaison. “You can take it from here, Agent Martin.” The man returned her nod, turning his attention to his tablet and his earpiece as he walked away. “Care to share, Tony? You’re being demanding in a new and unusual way.”

“I’ll tell you on the way. Round ‘em up, Cap.”

Steve sighed the sigh of a man that has suffered through three generations of Starks (Darcy had her own quirks, after all) and relayed the departure to the team. Sam generously picked Kate up from her sniper perch, and they loaded into the jet, followed by James, Steve, and Natasha. Thor stayed behind with Hulk and a Bruce sized set of clothes. Tony handed him a phone as well. “It’s Banner’s, but if I call, you answer.”

“Is everything well, Tony?”

Tony swallowed, his eyes a little too wide. “Jarvis says yes, but I need to check it out for myself. She’d never forgive me if I didn’t update you.”

Thor looked perturbed, but he was a god who understood duty all too well, and simply clasped his friend’s arm. “I will wait for your call. Whatever has happened, I am certain that the Lady Darcy faced it without fear.”

Tony snapped the faceplate shut. “That’s what worries me.” He flew himself into the jet, the loading ramp closing as Natasha began take-off. Thor raised his arm in farewell, and saw Natasha give him a small salute before she turned to watch the sky. Thor strode away to keep an eye on Hulk, as was his responsibility. The faster Bruce became himself again, the faster they could be returned to New York. 

Each Avenger already had their own locker on the jet, but Tony had a separate area where his machine to remove his armor was installed, as well as a change of clothing. Even wearing everything sweat wicking, he was still glad for a change after an extended period of time in the suit. It also had the added benefit of giving him a few moments to gather himself and attempt to interrogate Jarvis more. Jarvis patiently explained that he had no new information, causing Tony to slam his locker door shut and rest his forehead on the cool metal. “God, I need a drink.”

“Would you like me to get that for you, Mr. Stark?”

Tony pointed at the woman at the door without taking his head off the locker. “Don’t pull that Natalie shit with me right now. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than what new way you’re planning to kill me.”

Natasha shrugged a shoulder, even though he couldn’t see her. “Great news. It’s sharing time.”

Tony swallowed, hard, before standing straight and scrubbing his hands over his face, going up into his hair and pulling. “I’m not going to say this more than once. Let’s go.” Natasha stood to the side, letting Tony lead to the main section of the jet where the jump seats were located. James and Steve were talking, each of them having shed the more annoying parts of their tac gear. Sam was coming back from having packed up his wings and securing them. Kate was sprawled across some seats, purple aviators over her eyes as she appeared to sleep. Seeing a Hawkeye in such a familiar position triggered Tony to realize someone needed to check on Clint - and then made him pissed off that he couldn't check on the birdbrain himself. 

Natasha noticed the clenched jaw when Tony saw Kate, and she quietly moved to stand by the young woman. Kate opened one eye, noted the readiness of Natasha's stance, and casually stretched and sat up. Natasha looked down at her and nodded slightly, indicating her approval, and moved to sit in one of the now empty seats. Tony was pacing slightly, which had caught everyone's attention. “Tony?” Steve asked, cautiously. “You okay?”

“I got an alert from Jarvis while we were fighting. Clint's place was attacked.” Kate gasped slightly and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. Natasha sat up straighter, but didn’t say anything. Steve swore softly, James very carefully watched Tony, and Sam watched James. Tony turned to look at Natasha and Kate. “I don’t have any information on Clint, yet, or even really what happened. Jarvis reported a breach of the system, and that means that I haven’t been able to get my hands on any footage.” Tony pressed his fingers into his eyes and cleared his throat. “Darcy was there. Jarvis told me that she was there, and I know she would have tried to fix the breach at the control panel. I know that she was hurt enough to get checked out by Cho, because I was told that she’ll be fine, but that’s it.” He threw his hands up in the air and resumed his pacing. “I don’t know how bad, or who did this, or why. It could be so many people and for so many reasons, and I can’t just go down there!” He took a deep breath, using one hand to rub the back of his neck. “Jarvis and I are going to start hunting down what we can while we’re in the air. You,” he pointed at James, whose metal arm had whirred only briefly when he clenched his left fist but otherwise was stony faced, “can come with me, so long as there is no punching of me or my equipment. I have a feeling that your death glare will come in handy.” James didn’t respond, but got up and left to go back to Tony’s work space. 

Tony came over to Natasha and Kate’s seats. “I’ll, uh, get you anything I can on Clint’s condition.” He awkwardly clapped his hands when neither woman responded. “Yeah, I’ll get right on it.” He was already pulling out his StarkPhone as he also walked back to his shop. 

After a moment, Natasha spoke. “You can't call him, and he doesn't expect a call from me until tomorrow at the earliest.”

Kate hunched her shoulders defensively. “I know.”

“There just isn't a logical explanation of how you would have found out. He knows you're on mission.”

“I know.”

“And it wouldn't make sense for me to call. At least, not here. Too loud, too hard to explain. The easiest lies are the ones closest to the truth.”

“I said, I know!” Kate stood up, fists clenched, chin jutted. “I know exactly what it's like to lie to one of your best friends every day, to watch them in pain and have them say they're not, to feel helpless when you're supposed to be a hero. So don't tell me what to do, Natasha. I've been there since the beginning. Lying, lying, lying. Guess I’m really an Avenger now.” She flipped her sunglasses back onto her eyes with a shaky hand, then fled to another part of the jet. 

“I'll check on her,” Sam offered, then ambled off. 

With just her and Steve left, Natasha let her posture sag a little. “She doesn’t understand, Nat.”

Natasha let out a bitter laugh. “No, she sounds like she understands perfectly.”

Steve sighed. “It took me a while to understand why you do what you do, and even then there are a lot of days where I’m pretty sure I’m wrong. But, bottom line, you do what you do because you care. I know it’s wearing on you, Nat. And you know you can talk to me anytime.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I know. And I know when this first happened, I could have been there for her. But, God, I was so angry. I had to do something. And I couldn’t sit there and watch him not remember our life together. I didn’t want to figure out how much he forgot. And,” she hesitated, “I didn’t know what kind of man Clint would be without SHIELD,” she admitted quietly. 

Steve leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. “This could have happened to any one of us. We don’t fault you for needing time to get yourself sorted. I mean, hell, I was a mess with Bucky, you know that. And he came out of it with some scars, but he came back. And I think Clint will too.” He looked at her at out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know too much about the two of you and what you were like pre-SHIELD, and I don’t need to. Clint is a good guy, Natasha. He may have done some wrong things in his life, but who hasn’t? I don’t blame you for being afraid, but we’re your team, and we’re with you until the end of the line.”

The corner of Natasha’s mouth ticked up at the familiar words. “What if I don’t get him back, Steve?”

“You can’t think like that,” he began, but Natasha cut him off.

“It’s a very real possibility. Do you think I’m endangering him by trying to stay in his life?”

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted to her. “But I don’t blame you for trying.”

She nodded once, eyes wet with unshed tears. They sat in silence until Sam returned. “How is she?” asked Steve.

Sam shrugged. “She’ll move on. Probably feels a little guilty, and once she calms down, is going to be too afraid to talk to Nat for a little. Hawkeyes are strong stuff, though. Bunch of stubborn assholes.” 

“Pretty sure that’s just a birdbrain thing,” came the reply from the walkway. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Thought you were with Tony?”

James stepped into view. “Tony and Darcy are talking.”

Steve’s eyebrows lifted. “You didn’t threaten anyone, did you? I told Maria you’d stop being mean to the medical staff.” James looked at him, nonplussed, and Steve sighed. “I’m going to catch hell for this. So, how is she?”

“Concussion, sprained wrist, various scrapes and bruises, including a giant one on her jaw, but she’ll be okay. She’s fighting with Tony right now about going back to work. Speaking of, Natalia, we need to have our own discussion.” His voice got deeper on the last sentence, and Natasha couldn’t help the sudden stiffness of her spine. 

“Buck, tensions are high right now, you need to back off. We’ll be home soon, and you can go see your girl, ease your mind some.” Steve could feel the waves of guilt coming from Natasha, and he knew that she didn’t need any input from his best friend. Bucky didn’t look like he felt inclined to agree, but Steve shot him a sharp look. 

“Later,” he said to Natasha in Russian, and then stomped off the way he came. Natasha leaned back and closed her eyes, and Steve did the same as he heard Sam settle himself. 

After about an hour, as the quinjet neared the Tower, Natasha got up to help with the descent and Kate returned to the main area, sunglasses firmly in place. Tony and James returned as well, and Tony went over to speak quietly to her. “From what I can tell, he's fine. Treated on scene. Your star spangled girlfriend showed up to save the day. She's going to meet us at the Tower for a rundown of what she saw.”

Kate nodded slightly. “Thanks, Tony,” she said, her voice wavering a little. 

“You're welcome, kid.” As the jet touched down, the ramp opened, and they were able to see Pepper and Maria waiting for them and effectively blocking the door. 

“Sergeant Barnes, a word?” Maria called over the sound of the engines winding down as the Avengers began departing the jet.

“Not now, Hill,” James ground out as he stopped in front of the pair. 

They didn’t move, Pepper stopping Tony from protesting with a look. She calmly waited for the engines to be at a decibel that allowed her to speak normally. “Darcy is fine, though still currently in the medical area. She has no visitor restrictions, but don't think for a second that those won't be enacted if the staff thinks it necessary. And if they think that it is, I expect there to be no arguing or threatening. From anyone. Understood?” 

James had learned over the decades that he was afraid of no man - women were a different matter, and Pepper Potts topped the list of people that he did not trifle with. He nodded his acquiescence, and Pepper smiled warmly at him. “Tony?” She arched a brow at him, and he flapped a hand at her. Pepper stepped aside and gestured to James that he could go first, grabbing Tony's hand as they followed. Sam and Steve stopped to speak with Maria. Kate stood off to the side, twisting and untwisting the strap of her gear bag. When she realized Natasha was exiting, she hastily opened the door to the Tower and went inside. Natasha strode after her, ignoring Steve calling her name. 

Kate was pushing the elevator button repeatedly to go down. “I'm sure Jarvis knows you need the elevator,” Natasha said, coming to a stop behind her. Kate startled, whirling around into a defensive stance. 

“Jesus,” Kate blew out a breath. “I guess heart attack is a less messy method than what I expected.” At that moment, the elevator arrived. Kate stepped hesitantly inside, Natasha carefully placing herself on the opposite side of the car in an effort to be less threatening. Jarvis announced he would take them to Medical, closing the doors.

As the elevator began its descent, Natasha lightly cleared her throat. “You didn't say anything to warrant an untimely demise.” Kate looked at her, incredulous. “We all have doubts, Kate. Mine just don't sit so close to the surface.” Natasha rolled her head on her shoulders. “Clint always pulled out the best in me - has from day one. And when he was gone, I was angry, but I was scared, too. So I left. I'm sorry that you shouldered a burden that wasn't meant to be yours alone,” she finished softly.

Kate shifted her weight, failing to hide her discomfort. “I’m still sorry for saying what I said. I know you hate lying to him as much as I do. Well, at least about this. You're entitled to some time, Natasha.” Natasha raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't respond. “I'm giving you a hug now,” Kate warned before stepping over to the other woman and squeezing her tightly. The doors slid open and Kate released her and departed, missing Natasha's smile as she followed Kate down the hall. 

Natasha's smile was quickly dampened when she saw James leaning against the wall, looking for all intents and purposes as though he was ready to interrogate a particularly tricky prisoner. Kate had stopped and shifted her gear bag, though had tried to give herself distance without seeming too obvious as she slowly started to unzip one of the side pockets. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two, trying desperately to assess the situation and not liking the results. She was doing a quick calculation of how many tranquilizer arrows she could grab when James pushed himself off the wall. Kate dropped to one knee and grabbed what she could, realizing that it was an incredibly stupid idea just as a door opened and everyone froze. 

Tony and Pepper stepped out, Tony pinching the bridge of his nose as Pepper rubbed his shoulder. “James, she'd like to see you,” Pepper said, ignoring the tension in the small space. James nodded once, then went into the room and shut the door behind him. “Kate, America is in the control room.”

Kate stood slowly, leaving her bundle in her gear bag. “I'll be up in a few. Just want to check on Darcy.”

Pepper nodded, and she and Tony left for the elevator. Kate said quietly to Natasha, “Do we need to worry about James?”

Natasha shook her head. “Not here. He’s upset, but he won’t upset Darcy while she’s injured.” She was interrupted by raised voices from inside the room, making Natasha close her eyes. “Or I could be completely wrong about everything in my life,” she muttered, mostly to herself.

Kate wasn’t sure how to respond, so decided the wisest course of action was to pretend she didn’t hear. Instead, she hauled her gear bag back onto her shoulder and cheerfully knocked on the door, not waiting on an answer before opening the door and entering. “Hi,” she drawled out awkwardly. James was standing at the foot of Darcy’s bed, hands fisted as he turned to snarl at the intrusion.

“Hey, Kate. Can you explain to James how I am a grown ass woman who don’t need no man?” Darcy sat up in her bed, arms crossed over her chest and cheeks pinked in outrage. 

“Uhhh….” 

“Just like a Hawkeye,” Natasha muttered to her as she pushed past into the room. In Russian, she suggested to James, “Let's leave before you get thrown out. You wanted to talk, we'll talk.”

He nodded once, sharply, then turned and walked to Darcy. She glared up at him, but he bent down and kissed her lightly. “I'm fine, James. Stop being such a mother hen.”

“You couldn't get rid of me if you tried, sweetheart. I'll be back.”

“Play nice,” she whispered against his mouth before she gave him one more kiss. Kate moved out of the way of the door, and James followed Natasha out of the room. Kate walked to the visitor's chair and dropped to the seat.

“America is here, but there's no way I'm sharing an elevator with those two. You sure you're fine?”

“I swear to Frigga, Katherine, I will end you.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Did you get anything before you got hurt?”

Darcy shook her head. “Jarvis is working to see if he can figure it out, but we confirmed it happened from someone in New York. Since you couldn't install a full system, there are some limitations, but I'm confident we can trace it back, with time.”

“Thanks, Darce.” Kate shifted in her seat. “You know, if you don't want to come back to Hawkeye's, Clint and I would understand…” she trailed off at the glare she was receiving. “Or, you're a grown ass woman?”

Darcy nodded, sharply. “And I do what I want.” They sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes, until Darcy yawned. “Text me after you check on Clint, ‘kay?”

“Sure thing.” Kate left, letting the door quietly close behind her, before she headed to the elevator to quiz America on what happened. 

As Kate was going up, James and Natasha were staring at each other on the terrace, seated on opposite plush outdoor chairs. It was difficult to look intimidating in patio furniture, but the assassins managed. The silence was broken by Natasha, who briefly glanced around before saying, “This was not the setting I expected.”

James settled himself back in his chair. “You expected the gym. Or the range. Or a sudden attack in the elevator.” The corner of Natasha’s mouth ticked up, a self-deprecating gesture, as she recalled trying to put Kate at ease in the confined space such a short time ago. And how often had she and Clint used sparring and shooting instead of words? “Even now, you wait. It’s how I know you’re compromised.” 

Natasha felt her anger begin to stir, but she kept the cool look on her face. “Oh really?”

“You’re playing defense, Natalia. Your actions are entirely dependent on another’s - whether that’s Clint, or me, or whomever is behind all this. You are the Black Widow. The best one,” his eyes went distant for a moment, then snapped back to her. “You were trained to bait, and trick, and trap. And right now, you can’t see the forest for the trees.”  
Natasha narrowed her eyes. “I’m not some newbie agent running their first op. I know what I’m doing, Barnes.”

“Do you? Because people got hurt. Someone could have died - Clint could have died - because you don’t have both eyes open. You’re focusing on your feelings, not your mission.”

“Clint is my mission,” Natasha ground out. 

James leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “And that’s why you’re compromised.”

She felt her fingers digging into the arms of her chair, and forced herself to relax, calmly folding her hands in her lap. “You’re wrong, James. I’m sorry that Darcy got hurt, but you’re wrong.”

James half smirked at her, though his eyes were the flat black of the Soldier. “Darcy and I have some talking to do. But if you’re so confident, you won’t mind me coming to the restaurant and checking things out.”

Natasha sat back, eyes hard and smile sharp. “Of course not. I can work you into the op perfectly. You can be my mysterious, Russian employer that wants to come check on the restaurant in light of this recent attack. You will, of course, have to hide your arm and hand. And I’ll want to give Clint and Kate a heads up. It would be out of character for him to just show up.” 

James stood. “Your op, your rules.”

Natasha stood as well. “Of course, I also need one more person to act as my fellow assistant. I think Sam would do a wonderful job.” She strode to the door and left, not looking back to see James gaping at her, and allowed herself a self-satisfied smirk as she stepped into the elevator. “Jarvis, send a message to Sam and ask him to call or see me at his earliest convenience.”

“Yes, Agent Romanoff. Would you like to attend Miss Chavez’s debrief?”

“Yes, thank you.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the attack, including James's visit to the restaurant. As usual, when Clint is involved, things don't go exactly to plan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies! Thank you so much for your patience. I've been really struggling with my mental health, and was not in a condition to write. However, I finally got some help, and finally worked up to this. As a result, you got this monster. Hope it was worth the wait! Special thanks to agentsofpuppies as always, and for all of my Tumblr friends that gave me some much needed support. 
> 
> Any mistakes in formatting are due to trying this from mobile, if anything makes it impossible to read, please let me know and I'll fix it on a laptop later :)

After the debrief and a shower in one of the guest suites, Kate had sent off a text to Clint to let him know she was back and in one piece, as she normally did. The dots that indicated he was typing cycled through for a couple minutes. _Good u r ok. Long story. Brng food nd beer._ Kate sighed at what she believed to be his intentionally bad texting, then requested Jarvis to order Chinese and a good craft brew. She changed into one of the spare sets of clothes she had started keeping at the Tower, then headed downstairs to pick up the food delivery before heading to Hawkeye's. She relented to the fatigue that was starting to set in and asked for a driver from Jarvis, closing her eyes and letting her head rest back during the drive.

When she heard the driver open his car door, she opened her eyes and rolled her head on her shoulders. Her door opened and Kate grabbed her bags, sliding out of the car as she thanked the driver. When she stood up fully and could see the entrance, her mouth dropped in shock. “Holy shit,” she whispered. The front door had clearly been blown in and glass was still present on the sidewalk. Plywood was up over the windows between the patio and dining room. America's briefing hadn't quite prepared her to see the resulting damage in person. The driver waited patiently for her to collect herself, quickly departing as she moved to the alley entrance.

To her surprise, the door was actually locked. Kate put the bags on the ground and dug out the key, locking it back behind her as she went inside. The hallway was eerily quiet, Kate used to the sounds of the restaurant and kitchen. She headed upstairs to find another locked door. Not feeling like putting down the bags again, Kate kicked the door a couple of times instead of knocking. The response was the door opening swiftly and Kate being greeted with the business end of a Glock. While her first instinct was to fight (throw bags into assailant’s face to distract, leg sweep to knock off balance, break wrist to disarm), she caught herself when she realized it was Clint. Instead, she drawled out a greeting. “Hey.”

Clint grunted before clicking the safety back on and shoving the gun down the back of his pants. “Sorry, little edgy.”

“Bad guys don’t knock, Clinton.”

“Sure they do. Knock on the door, unexpecting person inside goes to open said door, they’re now in prime position to just shoot through the door with the highest caliber you have, or shotgun. Messy and loud, but as a last ditch resort? Still somewhat effective,” Clint commented as he motioned her inside and then locked the door behind her. Lucky bounded up to her and tried to sniff inside the bags, causing Kate to hoist them up out of his easy access as she made her way to the kitchen counter.

“That’s incredibly paranoid, even for you,” she frowned at him.

“Just because I’m retired doesn’t mean I won’t protect me and mine,” he responded, eyes going hard for a second.

“Easy, old man. I'm investigating.” Kate handed two bottles to him to open.

“You're investigating?” Clint said, his brows shooting up.

“I was a private investigator for a while!”

“When?”

“When I went to California!”

Clint frowned as he passed one of the bottles back. “You never told me that. Were you any good?”

Kate carefully set the bottle on the counter. The fight and the hurt that had caused the rift before California hadn’t fully healed before the attack on Clint and his subsequent memory loss. Kate suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. Based on the timeline she'd gotten out of Clint when she'd been pulled in, she should have known that he wouldn't remember their fight; hearing him talk about a pivotal moment so casually knocked her breath away. She had grown used to a tightness in her chest over the last few months; the feeling of holding your breath underwater those last seconds of a childhood contest of who could go the longest, this was a new feeling that caused her to almost miss what he said next. “America told the EMTs I got hit on the head, but I think those robots hit me with a tranq, because I totally got hit in the neck with something.”

“A tranq? Weird. Wonder why they'd do that.” America had mentioned Clint losing consciousness, but she must not have known about the dart. If it was someone that was gunning for either Hawkeye, though, they were smart to come prepared. And if it was a random attack, maybe it was some new guy that didn't want to actually hurt people? She'd have to figure that out later. She had other priorities first. “Was anyone hurt? How bad is the damage on the inside? The outside looked really bad.”

Clint pulled out the first container of food and broke apart his chopsticks, starting to dig in as he responded. “Some cuts from the glass, general bruises, but everyone treated on scene. Except for Darcy, she took a hit when the things busted through the door. Concussion, probably, but she was already gone when I woke up and no one really knew where she went. Can you check on her?”

“Sure.” Kate opened her own chopsticks and started picking through her container, dropping the mushrooms into his as she found them. “Damage report?”

“Show you after we eat,” he replied through a mouthful of rice, earning him a swat on his arm. After he swallowed, he asked, “How was your mission?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “These guys are just so stupid,” she complained. She couldn't relay all of the details, but Clint liked hearing about any fun arrows she used or especially tricky shots she pulled off. Clint finally declared himself stuffed and then pulled down a bowl to fill for Lucky.

“Not sure we didn't miss any glass,” Clint justified. “I won't feel bad about leaving him up here if he's eating.”

“You would have given it to him anyway, Barton.”

“He doesn't know that!” Kate rolled her eyes at that, but didn't say anything else as she followed Clint down the stairs. “Power went out, that was the first thing that happened. I assume the intent was to disorientate and also disable the alarm system. Power came back on easily enough. Kitchen is fine,” he waved vaguely as they moved through the room. “The front entrance is the worst part.” Clint pushed open the doors and flicked the lights on in the dining room. “Lost most of the alcohol, and the shelving. Holes in the wall and burn marks from the freaking lasers.” Kate walked through the room, stopping at the bar. She noticed the distinctive pattern on the top.

“Clinton Francis, did you make the robots chase you with lasers?!”

“I needed a distraction for Lola to get the civilians out the back!”

Kate looked at him, clearly unimpressed, then moved to complete her circuit. “I can see about getting someone in tomorrow to start the repairs. Not sure how long we'll be closed, though. It's too cold outside for us to be open until the front is fixed. We'll have to get in touch with everyone and let them know not to come in.”  

“They said they're coming to help clean up. Lola texted Luis and I think he's bringing his entire apartment building.”

“That's sweet of him. All of them, really.”

Clint nodded in agreement, then let loose a large yawn. The sentiment was echoed by Kate. “Wanna go veg on the couch?”

“Yeah, I'm already behind on Project Runway.”

“I'm only letting you watch that because you saved the world today,” he said as they headed back to the kitchen.

“And because Tim Gunn is an inspiration to us all?”

“That too.”

They watched a couple episodes, but Kate's fatigue eventually overcame her and she almost fell asleep during the judging portion. Clint didn't even have to push that hard to get her to agree to stay on the couch. He took Lucky out very quickly and then headed to bed himself.

Unfortunately, the nightmares that had started to drop off returned in full force. He was in the circus tent again, wearing his Amazing Hawkeye costume and standing in the center ring. A target appeared and he drew his bow without thinking. It started to bleed after he hit the bullseye, but Clint didn't notice - another target had appeared and he was drawing and loosing as fast as he could. His muscles burned and he was out of breath when the last bullseye was struck. It was then that he realized he was surrounded by dead bodies instead of stuck targets. Horrified, he dropped his bow as he realized his last shot had struck Kate. When he looked around, every person was someone that he had fulfilled the hit on their life.

Clint went to his hands and knees and the dreamscape changed. The floor changed from dirt and sawdust to concrete while the bodies disappeared. He staggered to his feet and his bow was back in his hands with a com unit in his ear. He was in some kind of alleyway and hidden in the shadows. A redhead in a short evening dress and cropped fur coat was gingerly walking toward him as if the heels on her feet were just a little too tight and a little too high. The unit crackled to life. “Do it now, Hawkeye.”

Clint couldn't get his arms to stop moving as one drew an arrow and nocked it. Something is wrong here, he tried to shout, but his mouth was frozen and his arms created the necessary tension and he sighted and then the arrow shot true. The redhead collapsed and Clint couldn't breathe and the voice in his ear said, “You made the right call,” right before he ripped it out and his legs were finally free to run to the woman, but he knew. He knew before he'd brushed her hair from where it had fallen over her face that he'd done the wrong thing.

Clint woke up with a name caught in his throat and his face wet with sweat and tears. His breath came out harsh and ragged; loud in the stillness of the late hour. He stumbled to the bathroom to try to wash away the all too real dreams with hands that shook. Clint forced the nausea down as he made his way back to his bed before cocooning himself in the comforter. He gave himself a headache trying to remember if he had ever taken a contract for someone named Natasha before finally passing back out again.

In the morning, both he and Kate were zombies, even with coffee. Lucky was taken out and they switched out taking showers with nothing more than a couple grunts and some pointing. After that and more coffee, Clint was able to pull together breakfast. Lucky got an extra helping since Clint felt guilty about having to leave him upstairs, and even still got another piece of bacon when there were sad puppy eyes at being told to stay as they finally left. Kate missed that part, as her phone had begun singing Nirvana and she had hastily made her way downstairs as she answered. When he made it downstairs, she was walking around with her phone taking pictures. “It's for the insurance policy, not online,” she said to him, a little too quickly.

Clint would have called her on it, but he heard banging on the alley door, so left to go answer. He had the gun hidden behind him as he unlocked and pushed it open, though quickly thumbed the safety and hid it at the small of his back when Luis came in, all smiles along with two of his friends and Hope. “Hey boss man! Kurt here is a real smart guy with computers, he's done all kinds of jobs, he said he'll take a look at the security system for you. And Dave’s gonna work on the bar and the walls but he doesn't sweep, but that's okay because I don't care about sweeping. I got a cousin who has a buddy who has a sister that works at a window company if you need help with that, too.”

Clint just kind of blinked at him, a little overwhelmed as he normally was with Luis, and they kept going into the main room. Hope didn't say anything, just rolled her eyes and followed. Clint decided to act as the doorman, letting the remaining employees in as they arrived. Lola was the last to show and looked him over with a critical eye before moving inside. They walked through the kitchen and into the main area without speaking.

Clint was impressed with how much cleaner it already looked. The team that had been working after the attack had been able to sweep up the glass and had reorganized the tables and chairs before their adrenaline ran out and they all crashed; now, they had started dusting everything off and were doing a  second sweeping (other than Dave). He saw Luis’ other friend by the front door, cell phone wedged between shoulder and face as he worked on a tablet hooked up to the touchscreen command panel. Clint decided it was best to leave that be, and instead got to work.

They took a break for lunch from a food truck that had happened to swing by. The tech guy had seemed satisfied with his fiddling of the system, showing it to Kate and practicing arming and disarming it. She had even taken his phone at one point to listen to whomever he had been conversing with for a large portion of the time. Just as Clint started cutting people loose, pointing out that there wasn't anything left to do that didn't need a professional and ushering them out the alley door, Natalie showed up.

“Uh, hi,” Clint said. Natalie looked worried and threw her arms around him as soon as she was close enough. He awkwardly patted her back, and Natasha got to indulge the part of her that just wanted him to be safe by squeezing him tightly. The employees ignored them, except for Luis, who waved and smiled widely before his friends pushed him down the alley.

“God, Clint, I didn't know what to think when I saw the front. Is everyone okay? How bad is it? What _happened_?!”

“Bumps and bruises,” he assured her. She sighed with relief and let him go. “I haven't heard from Darcy yet, but everyone else is fine. We have a lot to do in the front, and the bar isn't totally fixed yet, but I'm starting to think the laser burns will add character.”

“Laser burns? Seriously?”

“It's a weird story,” he admitted. “Why don't you come inside and I'll tell you about it?” He held the door open for her, and Natasha looked over her shoulder to see him locking the door. “Can't be too careful right now.”

She grabbed his hand and they linked fingers as they walked through the kitchen, though he relinquished the hold to open the doors for her. Kate called, “Good news, Darcy is fine, just resting for a bit. She said her dad and her boyfriend are overreacting but she'll be back…soon,” she paused before the last word when she saw Natalie. “Hi. Just dropping by? We're not really setup to cook right now,” Kate gestured around the dining room.

“Not a problem,” Natalie said through a polite smile. “I feel like you'll be back in business very soon. I'd be happy to reach out to some of my associates to see who can come finish up your construction and get you up and running again.”

Clint shocked Kate by accepting. “That'd be really helpful. I'm trying to keep this from having too bad of an effect on the business, and I'm not sure where to go from here.”

“Great. I'll get it all arranged. They'll want to start early,” she warned him. Clint grimaced but nodded. Natasha gave him a soft kiss, the tenderness of the gesture and the intimacy it implied making Kate look away. “I have to get back to work. Dinner tonight?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be good.” He captured her hand again, bringing it up to his face and kissing her palm. She rested it on his face for a moment, then slid behind his neck to pull him down for a longer kiss. They both looked calmer when they broke apart.

“Kate, if you walk me out, I'll get you the information for the companies I'll be sending by. And I'll see _you_ tonight,” she said to Clint before walking to the back with Kate.

“I'll make dinner,” he called after her, and she held up a hand in acknowledgement. Clint knew that he was out of his depth at this point, so headed upstairs to get Lucky. Kate texted him to say that she had some errands to run of her own, but she'd let him know what time the contractor would be by. Clint locked up and took Lucky to the market with him to shop for dinner items. Jarvis, back online thanks to Kurt and his phone consultation with Tony, set the alarm with a quiet sigh.

Clint decided that chili and thick slices of beer bread were perfect with the distinct chill in the air. He found his ingredients, and Lucky got a bone and more than his fair share of pets while they were out. His phone buzzed from Kate. _Contractors are on their way._

_What_

_They're coming over today._

_What_

_Oh ffs Barton. How do I put this? They have a particular set of skills…_

He sent her a GIF of an eye roll and she fired back with _I guess they're highly motivated. We'll be up and running tomorrow._ (Clint didn't need to know they were a crew motivated by a large retainer from Stark Industries and very large thank you baskets from Pepper for any rush job).

 _K thx._ He and Lucky headed home, and Clint was unlocking the door when he heard a shout from the alley entrance. He turned and saw a man with a toolbelt waving at him. Clint lifted a hand in acknowledgement before shoving open the door to let Lucky in and set down his bags. The alarm was beeping at him, and it took a few seconds to find a panel that he didn't remember seeing to disarm it. The other guy was jogging up to him when he turned back around.

“You the owner?”

“Yeah, Clint Barton.”

“Johnny Armstrong.” The two shook hands. “I talked to your gal Kate, she told me what you're looking for. Shouldn't be a problem to get most of it done today, probably come back in the morning to finish it off. You'll be up and running for dinner.”

“Great, thanks, man. Let me know if you guys need anything.”

“Will do.” They shook hands again and Clint headed inside while Johnny headed back to his crew. Clint went upstairs and turned on the TV, half-heartedly telling Lucky to get off the couch as he started unpacking the groceries in the kitchen. Lucky, of course, ignored this request, and Clint began to chop and dice and mix. The TV faded to the background as he moved through the motions.

Everything was in the pot and simmering when his phone chimed. A text was waiting for him from Natalie. _I'll be heading out soon. Should I bring anything?_

Clint grinned. _A change of clothes ;)_

_Promises, promises. See you soon._

Clint cleaned up the mess from cooking, then picked up the living room and bedroom. The yeasty smell of beer bread and just a hint of the spices of the chili were permeating the air as he went downstairs to check on the construction. The thuds he heard sounded like they were coming from the dining room. When he pushed through the kitchen doors, Clint was greeted with light - the patio wall had the plywood removed and most of the glass replaced. The front entry was also unboarded and the wall being repaired from the original blast. The bar and area behind it had good progress before from Dave, but the construction workers seemed to be putting on the finishing touches. Johnny lifted a hand at him and Clint returned with two thumbs up before the other man came over to him. They went into the kitchen so the sounds were slightly muffled. “It's looking a hell of a lot better,” Clint said, impressed. “You guys do fast work.”

Johnny shrugged. “Boss wanted this done as quick as possible. We'll have to come tomorrow morning to finish up, but you should be ready to open for lunch.”

“Really appreciate it. Do you, uh, need anything from me?”

“Nope, you're all set.”

“See you in the morning, then. Well, you might see Kate, depending on the time.”

“No problem. We'll be knocking around a bit longer, if that's okay.”

“You're good. Thanks again.” They shook hands again, and Clint headed back upstairs. After making sure the door was locked and checking on the meal, he went and took a shower. When he got out, he had a text from Natalie that read _eta five minutes._ Since it had been sent four minutes ago, Clint hurriedly pulled on a soft T-shirt and worn jeans. He forgot to brush his hair, dashing down his steps to the kitchen to pull out the bread. The knob to the front door rattled.

Suddenly, there was a male voice yelling at him, and a meaty fist hit him in the nose. His head snapped back and he felt the wetness of blood starting to pour out. Another punch to his face, and he was on the floor. Steel toed boots started kicking his torso. Clint couldn't stifle the first yell of pain, but grit his teeth to try and muffle the grunts that came out with every hit to his ribs. After what felt like forever, they stopped and forced him into a sitting position, one man holding each arm and a third at his back. The leader bent down and sneered at him. “SHIELD isn't coming back for you, asshole. We'll cut you into tiny pieces. I'll start with your fingers.” He reached for Clint's right index finger and Clint felt the snap of the bone breaking. He screamed and started to struggle against the men holding him. He reared back and slammed his head into the nose of the man behind him; a second finger was broken.

Just like that, he was on his kitchen floor and Natalie was there, looking worried. “Clint, are you okay?!”

His head was pounding like a high school drum corps and he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't going to puke right there, but Clint didn't exactly feel like sharing when he had no idea what had happened. “Musta slipped and fell. Can you get the bread out of the oven?”

Natasha knew that Clinton Francis Barton had never slipped and fell in his entire goddamn _life_. The control that she had to learn at a very early age was all that kept her from snarling this at him and instead standing up to use a towel to pull out his stupid bread as he'd asked. She ran some warm water over a corner of the towel and brought it back to where he had gingerly sat up to lean against the cabinets and was staring at his right hand. “Your nose is bleeding,” she informed him, voice carefully neutral.

“Thanks,” he responded, using his left hand to take the offered linen and shove it under his nose.

“So,” she said, drumming her fingertips on the counter, “care to tell me why I heard a scream and rushed in to find you bleeding on the kitchen floor?” _You're slipping_ she heard the inner voice she referred to as Natalia whisper. _Compromised, just like the Soldat said._ She softened her tone. “You scared me half to death.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Not sure what happened.” Nothing he could explain. He flexed his fingers as reassurance - whatever it had been, it wasn't _real_. He'd heard whispers and rumors of something called SHIELD when he was for hire, but no one had ever had proof, and he’d stayed off their radar. Whatever his brain was doing didn’t make a whole hell of a lot of sense. He ignored the urge to spill to Natalie - they hadn’t been together that long, and while it sounded like she might have a shady past of her own, he was sure it was nothing like his own. Although, that reminded him. “How did you rush in? The door was locked.”

“No it wasn’t,” she responded instantly.

“Yes it was,” he argued. “I know it was.”

She arched a brow at him. “Maybe you did hit your head.”

“Are you _laughing_ at me? It’s not fucking funny, Natalie. I was lax on security before, I’ll admit it. I may not know why that shit went down in the restaurant, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be caught unaware again. So, okay, I may not be good at setting that fancy alarm system that Kate bought, but dammit, I can at least lock the fucking door! I'm not an idiot!”

“That's not what I meant.”

Clint knew he was lashing out, but he couldn't seem to stop the words from spewing forth. “How am I supposed to know? You don't tell me anything. I know the absolute bare minimum about your life, and I sit here while you feed me half truths and expect me to swallow the bullshit with a smile on my face. I don't even know your boss's name, or what company you work for, or, hell, what you even do. You could be a Russian princess or the head of the CIA or a married mother of three and I would have no clue.” He leapt to his feet, towel hanging forgotten in his hand.

Natasha was shocked, but she was also pissed. Clint always hit his mark - amnesiac or no, he still found a way to push her buttons. “Like you've been so forthcoming? I remember your life story being pretty heavily edited, Clint. It doesn't matter what happened in the past, it's the choices you make now that matter,” she had to snap her mouth shut before she could bite out that he was the one who told her that.

“That may be true,” he said, quietly, “but sometimes, who we thought we used to be turns out to just be who we _are_.” He swiped at his nose with the towel and held it in place against a fresh gush.

“Now who's feeding bullshit to whom?” The line was said without any heat, and she slumped against the counter. They stood in silence for a minute, each trying to collect themselves. It was Natasha who broke first, Natalie being less stubborn than herself. “I'm sorry, Clint.”

He sighed. “Me too.”

Another long silence. “I think it's better if I leave. I'm glad you and the employees are okay. Downstairs looks a lot better.”

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbled. “They said we'll be open tomorrow.”

“Well, if you're up for it, I told my boss about what happened and he wants to come by. Be supportive. Maybe dinner? And then after… After that, we can talk.”

Clint smiled a little, though his eyes showed the guilt he felt. He hadn't been trying to push her into anything. It was just like something snapped in his head. Although, if his nose didn't stop bleeding soon, he was going to worry it was literally. “Only if you want.”

She smiled softly at him. “We'll see what happens.” Natasha crossed over to him and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. “Take care of yourself. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“You too. See you.” He watched as she let herself out, then turned off the stove and flopped on his couch. The towel was discarded on the floor - at least the bleeding had stopped. Lucky jumped on top of him and laid down, whining softly occasionally.

Clint didn't move again until he took Lucky out for the night, and then immediately went upstairs. He took a minute to scrub his face and undress, then climbed into bed and passed out as soon as Lucky jumped in. He woke up screaming a few hours later but couldn't remember why. Gasping, Clint decided he would go sit on the roof for a bit to catch his breath. The cool air blew away the last wisp of the nightmare; a blue light and a greasy smile, quickly forgotten as he settled himself on the ledge. He stayed out until he started to shiver. When he came back inside, Lucky had dragged the comforter down the stairs. Clint ruffled his fur in thanks and then cocooned himself before falling back onto the couch, only snaking a hand out to find the remote and turn on a mindless action movie. He fell back asleep before the hero could save the girl.

Clint woke in the morning with a stiff back and sore eyes. He tried to stretch out a little bit, but Lucky only let him do so much without jumping on him or licking him. They jogged up the stairs together to change and fetch Clint’s hearing aids before going on a walk. When he came back, the construction truck was parked outside. He unlocked the front door and exchanged a friendly handshake with Johnny, who outlined what they were doing this morning. It would be a little fume-y from the paint, but they had high powered fans that would help air it out in time for lunch. Clint could have hugged the man. After Johnny reassured him that the bill was taken care of and that Clint really didn’t owe anything, he ended up giving in to that instinct. Johnny took it well, gamely slapping him on the back a couple of times.

Clint went upstairs to start getting ahold of his staff to let them know the schedule was back on. He hesitated when he got to Darcy’s name, though, and decided she could use another day off. Lastly, he called Kate to let her know and he had to hold the phone away from his ear to prevent feedback from the pitch of her squeal. After hanging up, he debated with himself for ten minutes before sending a brief text to Natalie to let her know as well. Her response came back fairly quickly, indicating that she would be there for dinner with two guests that preferred a seat in the rear of the restaurant. Clint confirmed that would be possible and then went downstairs to start prepping the kitchen.

Gradually, his staff knocked on the alley door, each exclaiming over the swiftness of the repairs. Peter stayed to help him, headphones on and head bopping, while the others checked the setup on the dining area or finished dishes. Clint almost dropped a bowl of dough when the alley door flew open and banged the wall, admitting a flushed Kate. “Clint! It looks so good!”

He couldn't help but smile. “Yeah, girly girl, it’s pretty great.” She punched him in the arm as she passed, but only half-heartedly since she was so happy. Clint heard another shout of delight as she crossed the double doors and saw the dining room.

He and Peter finished with the kitchen work a few minutes before opening. They both went to the front to check on the staff out there. Clint's jaw actually dropped to see Darcy sitting on one of the bar stools. She wiggled her fingers at him in a semblance of a wave. “Hiya, handsome.”

“If you're on that many painkillers, you shouldn't be here,” he responded.

Darcy gave him the finger. “It's not even that many. I wasn't going to miss the grand reopening. And, I texted _bunches_ of people to come see!” She considered for a minute. “Maybe coffee wouldn't be a bad idea.”

Hope already had it in hand and passed it to Darcy as soon as she said something. _Thank you_ Kate mouthed to her.

“It means a lot to me that you guys are here. You could have quit. I would have understood. But you stayed.” Clint's throat started to burn and his chest felt tight as he was overcome with emotion. “You guys stayed,” he repeated. “And I can't thank you enough. Let's do this.”

Clint ceremoniously flipped the lock and opened the door and then headed back to the kitchen, tugging Kate's hair as he walked by. “Natalie’s coming for dinner, we'll need to reserve a table for three. She wants it in the back,” he tossed over his shoulder as he pushed through the kitchen doors.

“What?!” Kate scurried after him. “Who is she bringing with her?!”

Clint shrugged. “Dunno, didn't ask.”

“You didn't _ask_?” Kate responded incredulously.

“Nah. Doesn't really matter, right? S’long as they like pizza.” He couldn't keep back the laughter as she looked absolutely gobsmacked. “It's her boss and someone else.”

Kate’s expression rapidly changed to one of trepidation. “Her boss. Is coming. Here.”

“That's what she said.”

She was silent as Clint began to work pizza dough. “Okay then,” she said and abruptly left.

Clint rolled his eyes. _Teenagers_. He turned the music on in the kitchen and worked to finish off his prep. Orders started coming in, flying in almost as quickly as Clint could get them out. It seemed Darcy hadn't been joking about telling people to come by.

The lady in question was in the dining room, typing furiously on her tablet and phone, trying to figure out what Natasha was doing. She couldn't just call anyone, since they would all rat her out about being out of the Tower so quickly. Jarvis was keeping quiet for the time being, but Darcy knew where the AI’s loyalty had been programmed to lie. Her roundabout inquiry to Pepper had lead nowhere; Pepper had a lunch with Tony, so that ruled them both out. Steve had replied that he was in DC. Natasha wouldn't go to Sam for something like classic espionage (no offense to him) and her normal partner in crime was the target. Darcy was hesitant to ask James, as she had a sneaking suspicion this would lead down a road of inquiries that she was currently avoiding. Wanda was a solid maybe. She didn't think Natasha would try and run this with any X-Men, but you never knew. The possibilities were starting to make her head spin, so she turned everything off and started helping at the bar. A slight shake of her head at Kate indicated she didn't have any great suggestions.

The lunch rush lasted a bit longer than usual, and everyone was a little wiped after. Darcy looked a little pained, so she was almost forced into a chair by Hope. A warning look towards Kate had her closing her mouth before she could suggest Darcy go home. Clint came out and circled around with everyone, thanking them again for being there. He offered several times for people to go home, but most of the staff had planned on working the double for the re-opening. The break schedule was worked out, a coffee run was organized, and everyone prepped for dinner. Kate slapped a piece of paper with the word ‘reserved’ on it on a table in the back as requested. It had good sightlines for the rest of the dining room, including the kitchen doors, and also had enough space for three people to sit on the side of the table that would have backs to the wall. Kate felt Natasha would approve and Darcy seconded her choice.

Clint came out front to chat with everyone once he had finished the dinner prep in the kitchen. He nodded approvingly at the chosen table and snapped a picture to send to Natalie. Clint then moved to Darcy to fret over her by exaggeratedly flirting, Darcy reciprocating with teasing that had been helped along by her next dosage of pain medicine. Customers started coming in for dinner earlier than normal so he had to go back in the kitchen to help Peter. By the time Natalie was texting him to say she was only a few minutes away, he was elbow deep in dough and couldn’t respond. This meant he missed her sweeping into the restaurant with Sam at her side, and Darcy’s subsequent reaction.

Which was probably a good thing, as she yelled, “Are you _kidding_ me?!” at them, receiving a murderous look from Natasha.

“She's medicated,” Kate said to them in a low voice as she approached with a smile. “We have your table as you requested. Waiting on one more?” Kate said in a normal voice.

“Yes, we wanted to make sure everything was as needed. Samuel, can you let Mr. Petrov know that we're ready for him?”

Sam nodded once at her, unsmiling and firmly ignoring Darcy as he walked back out the front door. Kate led Natasha to the back table, proud when she received a slight nod of approval. Natasha leaned in close to whisper, smile still in place, “I need you to get Darcy upstairs or in the back.”

“Why?”

“If that’s how she reacts to Sam, she’s not going to like Mr. Petrov.”

“I mean, who is it? Oh my god, it’s not Tony, is it? You said you didn’t work for him!”

Natasha tried very hard not to be offended that a Hawkeye would insinuate she didn’t know her own cover, choosing instead to briefly shut her eyes and take a deep breath before replying. “It’s James.”

Kate’s eyes widened. “ _Oh_. Give me a second.” Kate turned to retrieve Darcy, but stopped short when she saw the look on the woman's face. “Too late,” she said weakly.

Natasha had learned many things during her time on Earth, many that she wasn't necessarily proud of knowing; she still hadn't learned to never underestimate a Stark. Though her eyes were flashing and her cheeks were ablaze, Darcy coolly picked up menus and silverware as Sam guided James inside and to the back table. Natasha and Kate both quickly walked over as James seated himself. “Darcy,” Natasha said pleasantly, “this is my employer, Mr. Petrov. He wanted to check on the restaurant after hearing about the attack.”

“How sweet,” Darcy deadpanned. “So considerate. Thanks for coming.”

James had narrowed his eyes at her tone, but didn't otherwise respond. “Mr. Petrov prefers Russian,” Natasha said through her teeth.

“Oh, let me try!” Darcy said, brightly. She threw out a phrase that Kate didn't understand but had Sam choking back laughter. “I think it means nice to meet you.”

Natasha had bit the inside of her cheek as James scowled harder. “Why don't you pick up some drinks? Kate, can you let Clint know we're here?” Darcy all but pranced away, and Kate edged away from the group cautiously. Sam let out a laugh as they were left alone.

“You didn't even warn her, did you?” No response, other than the scowl being turned on him. “Someone's sleeping on the couch,” Sam sing-songed under his breath.

James picked up a menu and positioned it strategically to hide his mouth. “Could you shut up and be _professional_?” He hissed at the other man.

“You've got no idea how good I can be,” Sam whispered back. James was stopped from responding by Darcy returning with their drinks.

“Are you ready to order?” She asked Natasha.

“I think we're going to say hi to Clint first.”

Darcy shrugged. “Okay,” and then tacked on **overprotective jackass** in Russian before marching back to the bar. Sam had slumped behind a menu to hide from the dining room, but Natasha could see his shoulders shaking.

“Best money I've ever spent,” he told Natasha at her arched brow.

She rolled her eyes and James gaped at him behind his menu wall. “Did you learn Russian just to be able to screw with me?”

“Hell yeah I did. Worth every damn penny, too.”

“ **Unbelievable** ,” he muttered, trying to get back in character.

“ **Natasha totally knew**.”

James shot a sharp look at Natasha, who ignored him. He turned back to Sam. “ **Your accent is atrocious and offensive**.”

“ **Now you know how I feel talking to you**.”

Natasha smacked the table, a subtle reminder that she was all too willing to crack their heads together at the next opportunity. Since Sam's bruises had only faded recently, the threat was not lost on him, and he settled himself back in the chair and concentrated on the menu. James set his aside and glanced around the restaurant. The kitchen doors caught his attention as they swung open to reveal Clint.

If James hadn't been highly trained, his mouth would have dropped open in shock. He felt Sam stiffen next to him, but he couldn't bring himself to jab at the other man. Clint looked terrible. He was pale and drawn; the shadows under his eyes looked like bruises. Even though he was smiling as he walked towards them, James recognized the eyes of a man who felt the burden of his past.

Clint had red in his ledger. This man hadn't gotten the chance to wipe it out.

James was shaken from his musings by Natasha introducing them; first in English, then in Russian. He nodded haughtily at the other man. Sam offered a genial smile and a handshake.

“We really appreciate everything you've done for us, Mr. Petrov. Your continued support means a lot.”

“ **Natasha, you can't ignore this.** ”

“He said the pleasure is all his.”

Clint’s left eye had ticked just a bit when James called her Natasha. “ **Something isn't right, Natasha. This place isn't helping him,** ” he waved his hand in the general area of the restaurant, watching as the tick grew to a twitch, again at her name. “ **You need to open your eyes.** ”

Natasha gripped her hands together under the table, knuckles white with the strain as she kept the smile on her face. “Local businesses like yours deserve to thrive, and sometimes they just need the right kind of attention.”

Sam spoke to James, trying to be quiet. “ **Dude, back off.** ”

James didn't even look at him. “ **She needs to hear it.** **I came to make sure that someone I love is safe. I would want to be told if I was wrong.** ”

“ **Natasha knows what she's doing** ,” Sam said, but he sounded unsure. Clint’s hand tightened into a fist, and James saw pain flash across his features before a smile was pasted on. He stood up before Natasha could pretend to translate. Sam stood as well.

“ **It's time to leave.** ”

“ **What the hell?** ” Sam shot at him. James turned back to Sam, glaring at him and opening his mouth to tell him off, but was stopped by a strange gurgle coming from Clint before the man collapsed on the ground with his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Clint!” Natasha screamed and dashed to him, kneeling on the ground as he seized. Sam was crouched down next to her in an instant. James saw Darcy texting rapidly on her phone - relaying orders to Jarvis or trying to get ahold of medical staff from the Tower, maybe both. He saw other diners on their cell phones, and specifically heard one of them giving the information to what he assumed was a 911 dispatcher. Kate had come out of the kitchen when she heard the shouting; when she saw Clint on the ground, she came over as well. James, with his enhanced hearing, recognized sirens getting closer.

James didn't know how Darcy knew, but all of a sudden she was at Sam's side and pulling him up. “You guys need to go. Help is coming. Follow me.” She headed to the kitchen. James spared a look back and saw fear on Natasha's face for the first time in a long, long while. She wouldn't appreciate being seen with such a naked emotion, least of all by him. Words of encouragement or comfort would be unwelcome; they would be seen as criticism or veiled insults. The only thing James could do by way of apology was to leave in silence. And if he hugged Darcy before he left? Well, he'd be a fool to not know he was compromised himself.

Clint had finished seizing around the time that the kitchen door swung shut, but he did not regain consciousness. Natasha hated herself for her weakness; she could hear Natalia hissing at her from the recesses of her mind but couldn't figure out what to do next other than hold Clint's hand. The paramedics arrived and she numbly answered their questions. They briskly informed her they were going to Metro General before hauling Clint out on the stretcher. Her phone alerted her that a car was out front. “Kate, are you coming with me?”

“The restaurant,” she trailed off, looking dazed.

Hope walked over from the bar. “We got this. We'll call Peter to come run the kitchen, and Darcy is here. Keep us updated.” She gently pushed Kate towards Natasha.

“Okay,” Kate whispered, almost herself, before squaring her shoulders and marching towards the door with Natasha following.

The car was silent on the way to the hospital, except for when Natasha called Bruce to let him know what happened. He told her to call him back with the name of the doctor, but he would reach out to someone he knew there to try and get the information quicker. The driver took them to the emergency room entrance and they went inside to locate Clint. They were given directions to his room in the ER and advised that he was still unconscious.

When they arrived in the room, Clint already had half a dozen wires or lines attached to him. Natasha winced internally in sympathy, knowing how much he would hate it when he woke up. They hadn't been there too long when a nurse came in and closed the door behind her.

“I'm Claire,” she offered. She moved to the end of the bed and checked Clint's chart. Kate stood suddenly and knocked it from her hands. Claire immediately held her hands up to show that she wasn't a threat.

“Why are you here?”

It took Natasha a second, but then she saw the board in the room - Clint's nurse wasn't even a woman. Natasha practically snarled at the woman. “Answer. The. Question.”

“A mutual green friend called me and asked that I get him any information I could. Sounds like Mr. Barton still finds trouble.”

Kate relaxed and Natasha pretended to, watching carefully as Claire picked up the chart. “Any answers yet?”

Claire shook her head and put the chart back. “They'll order scans and blood tests, but they won't know if anything is out of the ordinary unless it's big. Dr. Banner said he would need to compare anything to his scans in house, but since he doesn't know what he's looking for, the doctors here won't be able to help.” Claire sighed. “They're good doctors, though, and they'll try. Give them anything you can that's not classified.”

Natasha and Kate both nodded and the nurse let herself out. As predicted, a CT scan was ordered. Clint woke up at some point and tried to take the IVs out while spitting curses and was sedated. Natasha explained it away as a fear of hospitals, which Kate confirmed. He was wheeled away and the two women went and got coffee then sat in silence until he returned.

The doctor took some time to return, but basically said what Claire had predicted - no known cause, everything looked normal. Prescribed rest and liquids. The doctor approved the removal of the IV and said that Clint would be awake within thirty minutes or so. Kate stepped out to update Darcy and the restaurant staff. If she came back in with her nose a little red and eyes shiny, Natasha didn't feel the need to call it out.

Clint woke up, but thankfully didn't freak out - he just looked sad and lost. Natasha offered to help him get dressed and he shook his head at her. Kate stepped out again to give him some privacy, while Natasha stayed just in case. “Do you know what happened?” He shook his head again, though with some hesitation. “Clint,” she said gently. “I'm worried about you.”

“I'm fine,” he muttered as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“If you don't want a hospital, we can get you checked out by a private doctor.”

Clint's face soured a bit. “I'm _fine_. I'm sorry I embarrassed you in front of your boss.”

“I don't care about _that_. He's a man who understands that life is complicated, and he has his own mess to deal with. I just need to make sure you're okay. Especially after whatever it was in the kitchen.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her everything, but the loudspeaker in the hallway blared and Kate knocked on the door and the words grew too heavy to leave his mouth, so he swallowed them back down and tried not to choke on the disappointment that came with them. “I'm sure it's nothing, Natalie. Probably just from not sleeping. Kate always says I eat like garbage. Maybe I'll eat some vegetables now,” he joked.

“Yeah, right,” Kate said as she came back in. “Let's get you home and settled, Barton. You can watch the Great British Baking Show and rest for a couple of days.”

“But the restaurant,” he protested weakly.

“Doctor's orders, mister. I'll watch with you. I could use something lighthearted after today anyway,” Natasha told him.

“Deal,” Clint said. They were able to finish discharging him without too much fuss (Natasha raised an eyebrow and gave him a look and he behaved himself) and Natasha's car took them all back. They went in through the alley entrance, even though the restaurant had closed. Kate and Natasha helped him up the stairs more than he would care to admit, getting him to the couch and letting him plop down. Lucky came over to give him a thorough sniff and a few licks, and Clint ruffled his ears to try and be reassuring. Kate placed the after care instructions on the counter, then went to find Lucky's leash. Natasha ordered Gatorade and soup to be delivered in the morning, noting a text from Bruce that just said _Call me_. She returned to the living area, giving a ginger pat to Lucky before getting on the couch with Clint.

“I'll check on you tomorrow, okay, Hawkeye? I'll take Lucky with me and Natalie is going to stay here with you I think. If you need anything, text me.”

“We will,” Natasha promised. Clint looked a little drowsy and just gave a little wave in acknowledgement. She turned the show on from Netflix, and they settled in to the happy music with pillows and a shared blanket, head to foot.

An episode later, Clint was sleeping soundly on the couch. Natasha gently slid out from under the blanket and grabbed her phone from the coffee table. She walked silently to the roof access, leaving the door cracked so she could get back in without waking Clint. Pulling up the message from earlier, she tapped the icon to call Bruce. “Hey, I just wanted to get him settled,” she half whispered.

“It's okay,” Bruce said, not sounding his normal self.

“Is this a bad time?”

“No, no,” he hauling hastily assured her. “Maybe this should wait until tomorrow. I really wanted to get a second set of eyes on this, and Tony is out, but I can re-run everything.”

Natasha felt a sick feeling in her stomach. “Bruce. What do the tests say?” He was silent. “Tell me!”

“Natasha,” he paused and took a deep breath. “We're running all of the blood panels again to see if we missed anything. We still haven't figured out how to reverse whatever happened. And these new scans aren't positive. We thought time would help him heal, and it seemed like it was, but after the video from Kate and these incidents escalating recently-”

Natasha cut him off. “What aren't you saying? What video from Kate?”

“Based on the information from the hospital, the simulations we ran, and the empirical evidence, it's you. You're what's hurting him. Seeing you,” Bruce cleared his throat and his voice was rough with emotion. “Seeing you is killing him, Nat.”


End file.
